


Mosaic

by TheLioness5



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Confused Bucky Barnes, M/M, Natasha is constantly looking into the camera like its the office, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Slow Burn, Steve has the Tissues, Stucky - Freeform, but you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-05-23 16:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14937593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLioness5/pseuds/TheLioness5
Summary: "He was on the verge of leaving when a little girl walked past, gripping onto her mother’s hand, a thumb shoved in her mouth. Bucky pulled his hat lower. Kids see under the hats, look past the disguises and notice things adults didn’t.The audio recording played again as the girl stared on, transfixed by the images on the screen.The audio finished and the girl’s thumb popped out of her mouth. “They were pretty special best friends huh, Mommy? Like, the best of best friends.” Thumb shoved back into her mouth to punctuate her sentences.Her mother laughed lightly, “Yes, honey. It’s rare to find someone like that in life.”The thumb pops back out, “Will I find a best friend like that?”The woman had started to walk away still holding onto her daughter’s hand, “I hope you do, sweetie.” She looked down at her as she walked, “And when you do, hold on tight and never let them go.” "





	1. The Kill Switch

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, hello! I originally posted this fic late last year but I recently revisited it and realised I wanted to amp it up and get back to writing it. So here is a revised version of the first two chapters and expect more updates on this story as well. This is the first story/idea I've posted to AO3 so please let me know what you think below!! *kisses* 
> 
> I cannot thank the precious bean Noah_Bee for looking over my fic and listen to my constant rambling at like 2am about where i wanted this fic to go and what story i was trying to write. She is so patient BLESS.

By his biological clock, it’s only been five years since Steve saw Bucky fall from the train - nowhere near long enough for him to forget, like he ever could. Like it wasn’t burned into his brain. Having the serum… finally being able to fight, to protect, to stand up for the little guy and he still couldn’t manage to save his best friend when he needed him most. He had thought he had lost Bucky forever.  
  
75 years later and Steve is staring at him through a one-way glass. This is the first time Steve’s seen him since Bucky pulled him from the river in DC. Bucky is sitting in a small room across from a therapist having another session, one of many since returning to New York. The therapist was found and vetted by Pepper; the best help Tony’s money could buy.  
  
Steve doesn’t normally watch the sessions. He doesn’t want to invade Bucky’s privacy any more than it had been. He gets a debrief from Doctor Wilkes at the end of each session, progress or none. For the most part, it’s been progress. Everyone has off days and James Buchanan Barnes is no different. Well… not in that sense at least. From the reports Steve is given he knows Bucky has days where he’s willing to talk about his past with Steve and the Howling Commandos. Other days, Bucky is unmoving and silent, staring blankly out the window until the session is over.  
  
Today seems like a good day though; he’s sitting in a chair and drinking a plain black coffee, a small smile on his face. Steve has been asked into this session, to sit down and talk. Exactly what for he’s not too sure - he’s never been invited to attend before.  
  
“Steve?” Doctor Wilkes' gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “We’re ready for you now,” she says, leaving the door open behind her.  
  
Steve hesitates for a moment, nervous about seeing Bucky. Not behind glass but in front of him, properly, in person. What do you even do? What can you say to someone who was ripped from your past and thrown back in without warning? Steve takes a moment, steels himself taking the few short steps into the room.  
  
Bucky looks up from his coffee. He stares, blinking rapidly. As it turns out, Steve isn’t the only one what has no idea what to say. Bucky is sitting there, staring, his mouth slightly agape. Bucky is looking at Steve, Steve is looking at Bucky.  
  
This Bucky is completely different to the Bucky that put Steve in a hospital bed for a week. He can’t even think of the two as the same man. That was the Winter Soldier: a man, programmed by Hydra to eliminate anyone, trained relentlessly to kill. But now? There’s no rage coursing through him, his face soft and gentle, and the light coming through the window shining off his blue-grey eyes. Bucky’s hair is half pulled back off his face into a topknot and the loose strands frame his face, which is transformed by a small smile. He’s always been so beautiful - Steve has seen it their whole lives. Now, this - this man is Bucky.  
  
“Steve,” Bucky murmurs. If Steve hadn’t been already looking at him so intently, he might’ve missed what he said completely.  
  
“Hey Buck,” Steve responds, smiling brightly and walking towards him.  
  
Bucky meets Steve in the middle of the room, enveloping him in a tight hug. Steve tucks his face into the space between Bucky’s shoulder and his neck; he’s still the same Bucky after all this time, same smell, same hug, same everything. Steve can feel Bucky dropping his head to rest on top of his like he always did, this simple gesture warming Steve to his core.  
  
Steve pulls back and clasps a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, before saying, “I missed you, Buck.”  
  
Bucky smiles brightly, eyes shining. “I missed you too, Steve,” he replies, refusing to look away from Steve. Steve feels his face heat, returning Bucky’s gentle grin.  
  
“If you both want to take a seat, we’ll get this session started,” interjects Doctor Wilkes, jerking the men out of their bubble. Steve had forgotten she was even sitting there. He sort of wishes she wasn’t.  
  
They talk, not about anything in particular. It doesn’t strike Steve as particularly ‘evaluate-y’ - they’re just… talking. They’re talking about the time Steve and Bucky went to the Stark Tech Expo.  
  
Bucky, mid laugh manages to say, “And that car that blew up on stage was still the coolest thing I had seen in my life.”  
  
Steve nods in agreement, laughing as well. “I think I missed the rest of the show after it blew up. I spotted the enlistment center and took that as my what, fifth, chance to enlist?”  
  
Buck nods, “Yeah, you were a stubborn little punk back then.” He pauses, “Still stubborn, just, less… little.”  
  
Steve looks at Bucky, smiling. It’s so good to see Bucky again, to be able to talk to him like this.  
  
Doctor Wilkes is smiling at them both and takes advantage of the pause in conversation. “I think it’s time we talk about why you’re here, Steve.”  
  
Both men meet her gaze. Wilkes adjusts in her seat to face towards Steve before starting. “Steve, I want to clear Bucky to be reintegrated back into society.”  
  
Steve breathes in sharply, his heart skipping a beat. He wasn’t expecting her to say it so soon.  
  
Before Steve can say anything or react, Bucky sits straight up in his chair, taken aback. “What?”  
  
Wilkes puts a hand up. “Bucky, before you say anything, I’m not saying we let you walk around outside as you please. There are steps to take here, and we have to take them carefully. We’re going to start by letting you out of this furnished cell, get you to the Avengers Tower - getting you settled somewhere that doesn’t feel like a prison, and try and get you more comfortable being a part of a group of people. So at least for now, that means you will be restricted to the Tower. We can talk about clearing you for public spaces when you’re ready.”  
  
Bucky forces himself relax a little, leaning back into the chair but he’s still tense, gripping the edge of the chair tightly.  
  
Wilkes continues, “I want you to re-acclimatize yourself to social situations. Given your… unique circumstances, I think we both agree that the Tower would be the safest place to do this. I know you have certain misgivings about your abilities and being among the general population. Having people around who can, how did you put it?” she pauses, flipping through her notebook “‘Put you in the ground’, to use your words, may make you more comfortable.”  
  
Steve has been stabbed multiple times in his previous career with SHEILD but none of them compare to the feeling he gets in his chest when the words fall from Doctor Wilkes lips. She says the words so matter of factly, just a passing bit of information, like she wasn’t just talking about his teammates murdering Bucky. Steve, immediately clenches his jaw, moving in his seat and hands tightening into fists either side of him. He looks over at Bucky who glances back before quickly dropping his eyes, refusing to meet his gaze.  
  
Wilkes inspects Steve before going on. “Steve before we can do this, you have to listen to Bucky’s wishes about how he wants to do this. There will be conditions - some of ours and ones he sets himself.” She pauses, nodding her head at his hands. “Some of them you may not like.”  
  
Feeling caught out, Steve takes a breath, makes an effort to open his hands and relax a little. Once he feels more in control of himself he nods, looking at Bucky to continue.  
  
Bucky turns his body to face Steve, taking a deep breath in before starting. He pauses again, not sure where to start. “I’m a bit side-blinded by this, sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his head he looks towards Wilkes. “I thought I wasn’t going to be allowed out for a while.” Looking back at Steve, he continues. “Last session, Wilkes and I talked about the idea of coming back. I told her that I would, but there’s gotta be a few conditions. The first is that I get to talk to you beforehand... which I guess we’ve just done. The second was that I wanted to start off on a sort of… probation. If I do anything, behavior wise, that you or Wilkes judge isn’t… healthy, I get sent back here.”  
  
He pauses, taking another deep breath before continuing. “The third is the guarantee of a kill switch throughout my probation.”  
  
Bucky’s eyes seem confident and certain as he says to Steve, “If at anytime I start…” he breaks off, correcting himself, “the Winter Soldier starts hurting people I want Natasha to put me down. I need her to know she has full authority to gauge the situation pull the trigger. That’s all I want, Steve.”  
  
Steve stares intently at a coffee stain under the table, trying to process the information. Tension ripples through the silence. It drags on for what feels like hours before he speaks. “Why Nat?”  
  
Bucky huffs out an awkward laugh. “Natasha is the only person in the tower I trust to make the calls that too hard, or too easy, for others,” he says, finally looking back to Steve.  
  
He’s right, Steve thinks to himself. More than anyone, Steve trusts Natasha’s judgement - she can gauge a situation in an instant, and he’s never known her to make a bad call. More importantly, Steve knows she isn’t going to make the wrong choice because she can’t keep a lid on her emotions.  
  
He doesn’t like it. It’s still the right choice.  
  
The request rocks to Steve to his core, hitting him like a punch to the gut. If the Winter Soldier takes over Bucky wants to be killed. Steve knows with every fibre of his being that he doesn’t want that to happen - he won’t let it happen. Not without trying every possible way to save Buck.  
  
“Can I make request?” Steve asks, pulling his eyes away from the coffee stain and back to Bucky.  
  
“I’ll hear it first but I’m not making any promises.”  
  
Steve straightens up. “Everything has to be done first, before we even think of pulling the trigger. I’ll fight you, subdue you, knock you unconscious - whatever it takes to get you back.”  
  
Bucky’s mouth pulls to a crooked smile, but it never reaches his eyes, “This is why you’re not the one with the kill switch. I can’t trust you with this.”  
  
Steve recoils, taken back a little by Bucky’s bluntness. “Buck,”  
  
Bucky interrupts him. “Steve, I can’t trust my own mind. I need to have control over the few things that I can, but someone else has got to do this. The only thing I can do decide is who. If Natasha thinks you can subdue me, then she will make the call.” Steve wants to protest but Bucky places a hand on his shoulder, “Stubborn punk. Let me have this.”  
  
Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. When Bucky gets an idea into his head, he’s completely unwavering - has been for their entire lives and today isn’t going to be an exception. And he calls Steve stubborn... All Steve wants is to have Bucky back however he can. If this is the only way, he’ll do what he needs.  
  
He leans back into the chair, resigned. “Fine, but I want to be there when you tell Nat, and this will always be a last resort.” Steve will do what he needs, but that doesn’t mean he won’t push where he can.  
  
Bucky laughs, genuine this time. “Okay, Steve.” He rubs at the back of his neck, shaking his head. “You know, one day, you’re not going to have any control over a situation and I swear you’re going to malfunction.”  
  
Laughing, Steve relaxes the tiniest bit; Bucky always knows how to calm him down.  
  
Doctor Wilkes pipes in, “I have a condition as well.”  
  
“Yes, I’m still here,” she says, adjusting herself in her chair. “My condition during this adjustment period is for you to live together again. I think it would be really good for you, Bucky, having Steve to help you adjust. Being around people is important, especially at the beginning, instead of being by yourself. The last thing we want is for you to be isolated. As much progress as you’ve made, I’m still not convinced you’ll ask for help if you need it.” The doctor silenced Bucky’s protest before he could make a sound with a cocked eyebrow. “This doesn’t have to be permanent - we will keep checking in every month and see how you’re going. If you’re doing well, and want to have your own space we’ll talk about getting you your own apartment.”  
  
Steve immediately nods in agreement. “I have a spare bedroom and too much space anyway, I could use a roommate.”  
  
“It’ll be just like Brooklyn,” he smiles over at Steve.  
  
Steve lets out a soft laugh. “Except for the fact that we could probably fit the old apartment in about 5 times over. Honestly Buck, wait til you see the place. Tony hasn’t ever heard the word ‘restraint’”.  
  
Bucky’s eyes widen, “You’re kidding, right? What do you do with all that space?”  
  
Doctor Wilkes shakes her head as she closes her pad. “I’ll leave you boys to it” she says as she pushes herself out of the chair. It’s important, she thinks, to let them work some things out on their own.  
  
\----  
  
It doesn’t take long for Bucky to get settled into Steve’s apartment. He only brought with him a single duffle bag worth of stuff (everything he owns), and it’s not like they had to argue about what to keep and throw due to the lack of space. Steve was right; this apartment was giant.  
  
Steve walks in as Bucky tips the contents of his bag onto his bed: a single blanket, two outfits worth of clothes and a handgun. Noticing Steve standing in the doorway, Bucky pulls the packet of gum from his pocket and tosses it onto the pile with the rest of his stuff, a wry smile on his face.  
  
Steve lets out a laugh and walks the rest of the way in, “I think it’s time we got you some,” he pauses and lifts a bullet-hole riddled jacket, “decent clothes for you to wear.”  
  
Bucky grins, “But how else will I know exactly where I’ve been shot before?” He sticks a finger through the hole in the upper arm of the jacket. “You get ten points if you hit the exact same spot again.”  
  
Steve throws the jacket at Bucky’s face. “We’re going shopping.”  
  
Bucky catches it and as Steve leaves the room. “Wait, I’m not allowed to leave the tower.”  
  
Steve laughs from the other room as he grabs his laptop opening the top with a flourish. “The future is a crazy place, Barnes.”  
  
\---  
  
As it turns out, you can buy anything ‘online’ and get it delivered to your door in a matter of hours - if you’re willing to pay for it.  
  
Online... Bucky isn’t sure he quite understands it just yet. Steve’s tried his hardest to explain it to him but eventually Bucky was just nodding along to make him feel better.  
  
They first shopped for clothes; a few pairs of jeans, a couple of sweaters, some shirts and Steve also found a leather jacket that was definitely to Bucky’s taste.  
  
They brought other bits and pieces. Although, when he says ‘they’, it was definitely more Steve pointing things out and Bucky agreeing to whatever Steve thought he needed. Half way through, he gets up to make a cup of coffee and when he comes back Steve has decided he needs 3 different towels.  
  
“I only need one,” Bucky says, passing him the coffee, and sitting back on the bed with Steve.  
  
“It’s in case one is wet.” Steve says it so matter of factly that Bucky can’t seem to argue but he also can’t help but tease.  
  
“Then I’ll wait for it to dry.” Bucky jokes. Steve looks up from the computer and gives him a look, causing Bucky to raise both of his hands in a mock surrender. “Or, I’ll have three towels then.” He says with a gentle bump to Steve’s shoulder.  
  
Bucky pushes off the bed, making his way to the giant window overlooking the city. Despite how much it’s changed, it’s still one of his favourite places - anywhere in the world. It may be busier, the buildings higher and it may look nothing like the home he remembers, but it’s still beautiful. After his probation he’s going to make sure that he forces Steve to show him around.  
  
Steve comes up next to him, almost as if reading his thoughts. “Once you’re off probation I’ll take you to some of our old hang outs. They’re completely different now… almost nothing is the same, but it’s interesting to see how much it’s changed. Like going somewhere new, you know?” Bucky turns to Steve, who’s still staring out the window. Steve continues, “There are also some places I go now that I’d like to take you to; a couple coffee shops, a few quiet hiding spots… almost feels like home.”  
  
Bucky takes in the sight of Steve. He has his hands in his pockets, a light grey t-shirt and some jeans, looking out towards the city.  
  
“Inseparable on both schoolyard and the battlefield...” That’s what the audio had said at the Smithsonian. Bucky had visited, after pulling Steve from the river and the collapse of SHIELD, trying to put together fragments of memories. His hat pulled low, walking around looking at these remnants of Steve and his life. On display for the world to gawk at.  
  
He stood in front of a screen. A video of the man with his face and the man called Steve played on a loop. They were laughing. He doesn’t know why - he doesn’t remember. Thinking about it now, this wouldn’t have been the first thing to come to his mind when he thinks of Steve. It’s not that it wasn’t a good memory. It was just another day for them. They were happy, completely oblivious to what was ahead of them. A twisted sort of innocence, considering it was war. It wouldn’t be what he chose, but here it was, immortalised in film, on repeat for the masses.  
  
He was on the verge of leaving when a little girl walked past, gripping onto her mother’s hand, a thumb shoved in her mouth. Bucky pulled his hat lower. Kids see under the hats, look past the disguises and notice things adults didn’t.  
  
The audio recording played again as the girl stared on, transfixed by the images on the screen.  
  
The audio finished and the girl’s thumb popped out of her mouth. “They were pretty special best friends huh, Mommy? Like, the best of best friends.” Thumb shoved back into her mouth to punctuate her sentences.  
  
Her mother laughed lightly, “Yes, honey. It’s a rare to find someone like that in life.”  
  
The thumb pops back out, “Will I find a best friend like that?”  
  
The woman had started to walk away still holding onto her daughter’s hand, “I hope you do, sweetie.” She looked down at her as she walked, “And when you do, hold on tight and never let them go.” Fondly smiling at the pigtailed girl, she squeezed her hand and walked off.  
  
It’s strange, the Bucky that had been in the museum is an entirely different Bucky to the one that stands next to Steve now. The Bucky that the little girl saw is gone. He died the moment he gripped the air wildly, falling from the train.  
  
It’s fitting, really, that the museum immortalised his younger, naive self because now he’s just the broken, damaged shell of a friend from Steve’s past.  
  
He sees his mind like a mosaic. Except, when Hydra took him, they smashed a sledgehammer to it and all the pieces of his mind fell and shattered on the floor. Now, Bucky sits on the ground, trying to carefully put them all back where they belong. It frustrates him to no end because he knew what it looked like before, whole and wonderful, something worthy of love. Now it’s scattered, messy and incomplete. In the frame, some of the original pieces are still in their place. Now there are some new pieces, replacing the ones that got too broken, smashed beyond recognition or repair. Most of the pieces of glass remain mixed up on the ground waiting to be sorted and put back in place. Bucky can’t help but feel helpless and frustrated like it will never be complete, and even if he can put it back together, it will be nothing like it used to, like he will never the same again.  
  
Broken and shattered, barely recognisable as Bucky Barnes. Certainly not the same man who Steve remembers. Bucky can’t quite figure out why, but Steve continues to stay by Bucky. He is always kind, loving and his stubborn ass constantly refuses to give up on him. Even when they were kids and Steve was a 100 pounds lighter, when a still breeze would knock him off his feet, he still wouldn’t back down. Bucky might be a shadow of who he used to be, but Steve hasn’t changed a bit.  
  
The woman was right; hold on tight and never let go.  
  
“Buck?” Steve’s voice breaks Bucky from his thoughts. Steve is waiting for a response, and he’d been silent too long.  
  
“Yeah, that would be great, Steve,” he responds, giving Steve a small smile.  
  
Steve pats Bucky on the shoulder and turns, acknowledging that Bucky needs some space, and leaves the room.  
  
Bucky takes another look at the new New York view and flops down onto his bed, both hands behind his head. He closes his eyes and, before he knows it, falls asleep


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noah_Bee screams into my face about a lot of things (dont worry it's a good scream) and i love her for it.   
> What a good bean.  
> Enjoy this chapter! *kisses*

Bucky wakes to the sound of Steve messing around in the kitchen. The oven is going, pots and pans are clattering, and Steve grumbling to himself each time he makes too much noise. It has to be late afternoon; the setting sun streaming in through the window of Bucky’s room shining right in his eyes, disturbing his rest.  
  
Rolling out of bed, he pads into the bathroom splashing water on his face. Specifically avoiding the mirror, he turns away and throws his hair up into a bun and walks out of the bathroom, back through his bedroom and to the kitchen to join Steve.  
  
As Bucky walks past the front door to the apartment, he notices the boxes stacked up against the door. He turns back to his bedroom and sees the three other boxes in the doorway there, that he missed coming out. It bothers him, that he was able to sleep through the delivery and the unpacking of the order, but he clearly needed the sleep. It still doesn’t come easily to him - he needs to take what he can get.  
  
He continues into the kitchen, rubbing the back of his head, “I’m sorry I didn’t help you with the boxes.”  
  
Steve’s head snaps up from slicing some red bell peppers, looking guilty. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”  
  
“No, you didn’t, punk.” He grabs a piece of the bell pepper and pops it into his mouth, grinning, “You should’ve though. I could’ve helped you.”  
  
Steve looks at Bucky, shrugs and continues chopping almost as if he wants to say something but decides against it. “It was easy. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
Bucky shrugs as well; if Steve doesn’t want to say something he’s not going to push it, just like he expects Steve not to push him. They weren’t always like this. The old him would have pushed, just like Steve would have pushed the old him. They’re more careful now, still figuring out how they fit now.  
  
Bucky looks at all the different vegetables that Steve is slicing up, and the pan on the stovetop simmering away. He gets up and moves around to the sauce and tastes it. “This is really good, Steve. What are you makin’ anyway?”  
  
Steve scrapes some mushrooms and onions into the saucepan and chuckles. “It’s just spaghetti, Buck. Nothing fancy here.”  
  
Bucky looks at all the ingredients and the volume of sauce in the pan, eyebrow pulling to his hairline “What, you tryin to feed an army?” He gives Steve a sly smile and Steve bumps him, rolling his eyes again. “No,” Steve pauses, choking off the next word. Bucky knows the word that should fill that pause. Jerk. For some reason Steve isn’t saying it, there have been a couple of times where he hasn’t said it to him.  
  
Steve pushes on, ignoring the awkward silence. “Remember, Natasha is coming over for dinner. Anyway I like to make leftovers for when I’m hungry and can’t be bothered cooking. Shove.” He gives Bucky a hip bump and tosses more ingredients into the pan.  
  
No two ways about it - Steve is tiptoeing around him. He’s not acting like himself, like he’s holding a back. Before Bucky can even give it second thought there’s a knock. Steve practically rushes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands, and answers the door.  
  
“Hey Natasha!” Steve pulls the door open and in walks Natasha Romanoff, AKA Natalia Romanova, at least that’s how Bucky knew her. Bucky has to remind himself to call her Natasha instead of Natalia; clearly what she prefers to be called.  
  
She scans the kitchen and dining area with narrowed eyes, as if evaluating their interior decorating. “For a pair of fossils, you have a decent set up here.” She takes a few steps into the room and kicks one of the boxes. “Still unpacking, Barnes?”  
  
That simple string of quips uncurls a tendril of anxiety within Bucky. He hasn’t seen Natasha for a long time and out of all of the others in the Avengers Tower, Bucky was the most nervous to see her.  
  
He puts on a smile and looks at both Steve and Natasha standing by the door, “Yeah, just waitin’ to see what the service in this place is like before I decide to stay. You never know, you might have a guest tomorrow if Steve doesn’t let me stay up past 11.” He gives Steve a sly look as Natasha lets out a chuckle.  
  
“Don’t worry his bedtime is 11.30, you’ll be okay.” Natasha pokes Steve in the side.  
  
Bucky and Natasha laugh and Steve’s cheeks start to flush. “So this is what it’s gonna be like now?”  
  
Bucky and Natasha lock eyes “Yes.”  
  
They both laugh and Steve throws a tea towel at Bucky’s face. “Stop teasing me and get the forks, dinner’s almost ready.”  
  
Bucky throws the tea towel back at Steve and does exactly as he’s asked.  
  
Natasha takes a look down at the box she kicked before. “Why are you buying DVDs?” She bends down and holds up two DVDs, North by Northwest and Roman Holiday. “You realize you can download literally anything these days, Grandpas.”  
  
Steve folds his arms over his chest, “We don’t download films illegally because we’re honest and hardworking people, Nat.”  
  
Bucky leans back into Natasha’s view, catching her attention. “And also because we don’t know how.”  
  
Natasha’s cat like grin creeps across her face as Steve stalks out of the room. “See if I feed you now, traitor”, Steve says, smacking Bucky in the face with the tea towel.  
  
\----  
  
The spaghetti was truly amazing, despite Steve’s protests to Bucky’s compliments. He hadn’t had a meal like that in a long time and no one’s cooking has ever come close to Steve’s.  
  
Bucky picks up all the plates without prompting. Steve always cooked and Bucky always cleaned up after him, even if the mess was big. Steve always joked the bigger the mess, the better the meal.  
  
“Thanks, Barnes,” Natasha smiles up at Bucky as he grabs her plate.  
  
Steve’s chair scrapes along the wooden floor as he follows Bucky into the kitchen. “Sorry, I – I’ve been used to living by myself for a while so I had to learn how to clean up after myself. I’m sorry.” Steve’s face is guilt-ridden, like he had done something worse than wash a couple of pans. “I mean, I – I tried to, turns out there’s actually such a thing as too much washing liquid. So Tony got me this,” Steve grabs a handle of a metal door and pulls it down, then pulls out a whole rack of dirty pots and pans lined up. “It’s an automatic dishwasher. It does it all for you.”  
  
Steve looks guilty as all hell and admittedly it was a little funny. There was no need for him to be handling Bucky like he was going to have a breakdown over any little thing.  
  
Bucky smiles and loads the plates behind the other ones in the machine and then closes it, finds the ‘on’ button and presses ‘Start’. He takes a step back and nods, flashing one of his winning smiles. “Looks like my job just got a hell of a lot easier than yours.”  
  
Steve visibly relaxes and returns the smile. Bucky pats him on the shoulder and returns to the dining room where Natasha is on her phone. When Bucky sits she puts down the phone, “Kwazy Cupcakes. It’s so addictive.”  
  
Bucky looks at Steve for an explanation, completely lost by the entire sentence.  
  
Steve just shrugs. “Honestly, there are some things I choose not to know. Bucky can’t help but let out a small breathy laugh at that.  
  
There’s a small pause where they’re just looking at each other, neither one saying anything. It’s not long, but it’s long enough for Natasha to have to clear her throat to get their attention again.  
  
Bucky feels some warmth reach his cheeks and quickly looks away.  
  
Steve clears his throat and sits down. “Nat, there’s actually a reason we asked you around for dinner tonight.” Natasha nods and he goes to continue but then looks to Bucky, “Do you want to…?”  
  
Bucky nods and starts explaining what had happened this morning.  
  
The minute “kill switch” comes out of Bucky’s mouth, he can see Steve tensing up. Much like Bucky, Natasha chooses to ignore Steve and continues to look at Bucky, giving him her full attention. It’s a mission briefing - it deserves nothing less. She hasn’t said a single word or reacted in anyway since Bucky had started talking.  
  
Bucky finishes, not sure what else to explain at this stage, Natasha still watching him intently. “Natasha, the kill switch will only go through if you’re the one in control of it. If a… situation were to arise, I want you to be the one that makes the call.”  
  
Natasha, flicks her eyes over to Steve then back to Bucky. “How did you manage to get Mr Controlling over here to agree to all this then?”  
  
He can feel Steve roll his eyes without having to even look at him. “It was like pulling teeth but I think he trusts you. Plus,” Bucky turns to look at Steve, “I think it’s clear we’ve both got a pretty big weak spot.” Steve meets his eyes, his face soft, the classic ‘Steve Rogers Puppy Dog Eyes Special’. So, at the end of the day, I know you would be the best person to do this. I trust you to make the right call. I trust you to pull the trigger.”  
  
Steve’s glass breaks in his hand and Bucky drops his head. “Fuck. Steve.”  
  
Bucky gets up a millisecond before Natasha and Steve and grabs the towel from the kitchen. He sits back down and grabs Steve’s wrist with his metal hand, turning it over. Steve is staring down at his bloody palm, a gash diagonal along it, refusing to make eye contact. Bucky’s flesh hand slowly stretch out Steve’s fingers to open the wound. Luckily the glass had a perfect break - no shards trapped in the wound. It’s final revenge to cut Steve’s hand open was fulfilled.  
  
He wraps the towel around Steve’s hand carefully to stop the blood, then slowly closes Steve’s fingers around the towel with his own, keeping his hand on top of Steve’s. He loosens the grip but his thumb brushes gently against the vein on Steve’s wrist compelling his heartbeat to slow down.  
  
Steve finally brings himself to look at Bucky; his eyes are pained, not from the wound on his hand. Bucky’s expecting something, a comment, a fight, anything, but nothing comes.  
  
Natasha is the first to speak. “I’ll do it, Barnes.”  
  
Steve takes his hand back from Bucky. Bucky wishes he hadn’t.  
  
Bucky clears his throat but Natasha cuts him off. “I want to clarify a few things first.”  
  
Natasha adjusts in her chair looking at both of them, “I recognize that this is something you need to feel safe, Barnes.” She sighs, as if what she says next weighs on her too. “But, dying is not the way to recover from your past. We both know that.”  
  
Bucky looks off to the side, avoiding Steve and Natasha’s gazes.  
  
“I’ll do it,” Natasha continues. “I’ll call the shots should a Winter Soldier scenario arise. But killing you is not going to be the first option. Ever.” She puts a hand on Bucky’s. Steve watching Natasha closely. “We all have pasts that want to take ahold and destroy us. You won’t find anyone in this tower that isn’t haunted by something. You know some of mine, you definitely know Steve’s, and given time you’ll eventually find out everyone else’s. We’re all in this tower for a reason. You’re never alone.”  
  
Bucky refuses to look at Natasha; he knows his eyes will betray him as he mutters, “I’ve hurt too many innocent people. That can’t happen again.”  
  
Natasha taps his hand. “Eyes on me Barnes.” Bucky doesn’t move his head but looks at her, “That’s why we will do everything to stop the Winter Soldier. But we will also do anything to save you, James Buchanan Barnes.”  
  
Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t think you understand. There needs to be a kill switch.”  
  
Natasha nods. “I understand, Barnes. All I’m saying is that death doesn’t have to be the first option.”  
  
Natasha continues. “You’ve got to remember this old lug next to you managed snap you out of it. He’s why you’re sitting here with us today.” Natasha sits back. “I’ll do it. Last resort but I’ll do it. But you have to let us help you.”  
  
Bucky is quiet for a while before he speaks. “Steve put you up to this?”  
  
Natasha smirks, shaking her head, “No, although I see why you would think that. This is all me. But, I’m telling you now; I won’t do it if all you want it for is to die. I won’t allow it.”  
  
Bucky looks at Natasha. All those years she was a mindless killing machine, an assassin. Killing people she didn’t choose to kill; it’s not surprising that she refuses to do so now. He turns to Steve, still silent but his eyes are full of hope.  
  
Bucky looks at Steve’s hand, the blood staining the towel a dark red. He’s the only person in this world he would stick around for, the only person who would make living in this new world worthwhile. His best friend.  
  
His eyes are still on Steve’s hand when he finally asks, “I need you to take care of it if the Winter Soldier starts killing people. Stopping me… however you need to. Whatever it takes. If there’s nothing you can do… will you do it?”  
  
Natasha leans forward, arms crossed on the table, “Yes, if there’s absolutely nothing else that we can do, the kill switch is in play.”  
  
Bucky nods, lowering his gaze to his hands.  
  
Steve whispers gently, “Last resort, Buck. Please.”  
  
Bucky looks up at both of them, then to Steve. He knows he was 100% goddamn right before when he said that they were each other’s weakness.  
  
“Last resort,” Bucky says, looking at Steve.  
  
Steve leans forward and pulls him into a tight hug, holding onto him tightly, both of them still in their chairs.  
  
It’s still overwhelming for Bucky to be held like this, to feel human contact after so many years of nothing but abuse. The human body craves touch and Bucky’s was denied it for so long that the tears well up despite himself.  
  
Steve whispers in the crook of Bucky’s neck. “Thank you, Buck.” Bucky can feel Steve’s lips graze his skin lightly as he speaks. An accident on Steve’s behalf but it lights Bucky’s skin up like it’s on fire. Bucky pulls back from Steve, giving him a small smile.  
  
Natasha clears her throat breaking out of their little world, “So now that’s all cleared up, I’m pretty sure I can smell apple pie?”  
  
Steve laughs and nods, heading to the kitchen. Bucky can hear the sound of plates and spoons being gathered as Steve hums to himself.  
  
“I’ve never heard him do that before,” Natasha says quietly to Bucky.  
  
Bucky looks at Natasha. “He does it all the time when he cooks.” Bucky shrugs, it’s just a fact. He did it every single damn time he cooked anything when they lived together, “Didn’t you know?”  
  
Natasha shakes her head. “He’s never done it… not around any of us anyway.”  
  
Bucky and Natasha look at each other. Steve’s humming is the only thing breaking the silence between the two of them.  
  
Natasha is the first to speak again. “He needs you more than you know.”  
  
Bucky can’t think of a response before Steve walks back into the dining room, “It may be a little overcooked, but I put ice cream on the side just in case.”  
  
\---  
  
It's a couple of hours after dinner before Nat leaves their apartment. She stayed for the whole viewing of Roman Holiday before bidding them both goodnight.  
  
Steve walks back into the living room after showing Natasha out and finds Bucky standing by the fireplace looking at the pictures Steve has put up.  
  
He knows those pictures well.  
  
There's a picture of Natasha and him, where Nat is holding the camera out above them and they're both smiling. A ‘selfie’ she called it. It was taken during their first day in DC, just after they had coffee and spent the day walking around looking at the sights. Steve loves it; not because of the picture but because it's the first time Natasha really smiled in front of him. No guards up. Steve thinks he has a dorky smile and is squinting too much from the sun but he loves it anyway.  
  
The next is a picture of all the Avengers after the attack on New York. They're all sitting around the table after the shawarma Tony introduced them to.  
  
The photo was taken by the owner of the store but Steve went back to grab a copy. They all look exhausted but they're smiling as best they can. Thor has a goofy grin on his face and an arm around Tony and Steve. Nat is looking unimpressed at the camera and Clint is next to her, looking the most exhausted, a leg up on Natasha's chair but still smiling. Bruce is standing behind Steve, a hand on his shoulder, smiling. It's posed and forced but Steve likes it for the sentiment of them all together.  
  
Bucky is holding Steve's favourite picture out of the three.  
  
It's from the video played at the Smithsonian of the two caught mid laugh. Steve had taken a picture on his phone from the video and got it printed. Both of them in that moment; completely happy despite the circumstance, innocent to the hardships ahead of them. Bucky's smile is as genuine as he's ever seen it. When he saw it in the museum he was glad it was immortalised forever. When he took the photo, he never expected he would see Bucky again. He thought the picture would be all he was going to have to remember it by. And now it lives on in front of him.  
  
Bucky speaks quietly. "I can't believe how long ago this was taken… doesn’t feel like more than a couple of years..."  
  
Steve places a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Buck, it's the same for me as well."  
  
Bucky places the picture down on the mantel and turns to Steve. "The ice?"  
  
Steve nods. "It's not the same as what you've been through but for me the 1940s were still only a handful of years ago. It's been a hard adjustment."  
  
Bucky gives him a smile. "We're a pair aren't we?"  
  
Steve laughs as Bucky flops himself onto the couch. There’s something about Bucky looking so relaxed and happy sitting on his couch, Steve can’t hold it in anymore, "Buck, can I ask you something?"  
  
Bucky nods. Steve leans against the mantel, arms crossed looking down at his feet. He’s so unsure where to start, how to even phrase what he wants to ask. It’s unlike him to be so hesitant, but he still doesn’t know how Bucky will react.  
  
"Spit it out, otherwise you might choke on it, Steve." There's humour in Bucky’s voice but Steve can't bring himself to laugh.  
  
He’s struggling with what to say, how to say it gently. When words fail him, he just decides to say it outright. "Buck, why are you so okay with dying?"  
  
Bucky just shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Don't, Steve."  
  
"No. We need to talk about this, Buck." Steve’s managed to get it out finally, it’s been bugging him all day, he’s not going to back down now.  
  
Bucky clenches his jaw and says in a low voice "You might not like where this conversation goes."  
  
Steve crosses his arms "Try me."  
  
"Fine, go on, get it out." Bucky says leaning forward, resting his elbows onto his knees.  
  
Pushing himself away from the mantle, Steve begins to pace across the living room "I’m just… struggling to understand why you are so determined to make sure that at some point, someone is going to pull the trigger on you. That you need to know at one point you will die and honestly, I think you're being completely reckless with your life, Buck!" He comes to a sudden stop directly in front of Bucky, barely noticing his voice getting louder with each word he said until it was nearly a shout.  
  
"Oh, I'm being completely reckless with my life?" Bucky gets up out of the chair and squares up with Steve, eye to eye.  
  
"Yes, you are." Steve responds, they're close enough he can feel Bucky’s heat and tempering rage coming off him.  
  
"So are we going to talk about literally every choice you’ve ever made, huh?” Bucky cocks his head to the side, frowning at Steve.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about Buck." Steve crosses his arms over his chest and clenches his jaw.  
  
"Don't be such a hypocrite! First off, you’re the world’s crappiest liar!” Bucky steps back, holding his arms out in exasperation. “Secondly, what do you think I've done for the last few months in that room, Steve? Listen to the radio? I've read the files! I read all up on what you did. I know exactly how reckless you were. ”  
  
Steve stalks off into the kitchen, shaking his head, grabbing a glass out of the cupboard and filling it with water.  
  
Bucky doesn’t stop, and Steve can hear him following behind him, “Letting yourself be captured, taken into a Hydra base - zero protection mind you, until they crashed in through the window. AND THEN you fly a PLANE into the ATLANTIC OCEAN. You call that healthy behaviour? I hardly think you’re in a position to talk to me about reckless ass behaviour, Steven Rogers."  
  
Steve grabs the edge of the kitchen island counter, "You have no idea."  
  
Bucky slams his hand onto the counter. "Don’t give me that bullshit answer!"  
  
Steve throws the glass to the side, it impacts against the wall and shatters into a thousand pieces, water going everywhere. "I thought you were DEAD, Buck!”  
  
Bucky holds Steve’s eye contact. “Feel better? Feel like a big man, huh? Should I break one too?” he questions harshly, unbothered and unmoved by the glass.  
  
The words still hanging in the air as Steve breathes heavily looking down onto the kitchen top. When he speaks next, it’s barely above a whisper. "I thought you were dead.”  
  
Bucky softens but is still a little tense. "It’s no excuse. You were nearly as reckless even when you knew I was alive."  
  
Steve lifts up his head and looks at Bucky.  
  
"You did everything you could to stop me when I was the Winter Soldier and that was still throwing your life away. I could've killed you, Steve, you knew that. I almost did. I saw what I did to you, the pictures from the hospital. Even the file said that you had never been that beat up. They made a special note of it and everything. A week in the hospital for Steve Rogers is a long fuckin' time."  
  
Steve facing Bucky, rests up against the counter behind him. “I was fine, Buck.”  
  
“No, you really weren’t.” Bucky moves to the other side of the kitchen island counter and leans on it across from Steve. “You’ve started this so now you’re going to hear what I have to say.”  
  
Steve stands up straight. “Buck…”  
  
“Shut up, Steve.” Bucky rolls his eyes and Steve wants to roll his head. Instead his hands grip the counter either side of him tightly. “The Winter Soldier damn near killed you. So excuse me, if I don’t want to have the memory of choking the life out of my best friend. That I would rather be dead before that could ever happen again.” There’s a small pause and Bucky nods to himself. “So, that’s why Steve. You were okay with dying when you thought I was dead. I'm perfectly okay with dying if it means you get to stay alive. I know you’ll do anything to keep me alive if there’s a… situation. Even if it means you wind up dead and that is not going to happen. I won’t let it.”  
  
The counter cracks under Steve’s grip, “Do you realise I would go out of my mind if you died again, Bucky? You need to stop thinking that I’m breakable and that you’re going to kill me. You can hit me, whatever it is I don’t care. I recovered from that and I’ll recover again!” Steve stops suddenly, breathing in heavily through his nose. “Bucky...If you go again, that’s it for me too. I don’t care. I’ve walked around once in this world without you in it and I’m not doing it again!” A small edge of the counter snaps off in his hand and he looks at it for a second before dropping it onto the floor. Another thing he’s going to have to fix.  
  
Bucky is looking at the piece of countertop on the floor. “Round and round we go. Just say that you would do the same to protect me and we can call it a day.”  
  
Why is he always right? If Steve was in Bucky’s place and dying meant that Bucky would live, he would do it.  
  
Steve is silent for a long time and Bucky continues. “Dying is easier knowing that it could save you. And I don’t want to hurt you again the way I did back in DC.”  
  
Steve sighs, long and heavy. “You’re right Buck. I would do it for you, a thousand times over. You’ve just got to know what it means to me to have you back. I don’t want to lose you again. All this talk about the kill switch is making me think that you want to die, that you’re okay with leaving me alone. Again.”  
  
Steve looks down at the ground and it takes Bucky’s hand on his shoulder to get him to look up again. “Don’t ever think that I want to leave you behind, Steve, or to leave you alone again. I don’t want to die. I’m accepting that it may be necessary to keep you safe if the Winter Soldier comes back. This is the best way I know how.”  
  
Bucky’s eyes are soft, but resolute in their message. Steve’s never been able to argue with him because the minute he looks into Bucky’s eyes, it’s game over.  
  
“You’re so used to always protecting everyone, Steve. You’re gonna wear that shield out… Let somebody protect you for once.”  
  
Steve nods, defeated. Bucky’s argument mixed with his trusting eyes are clearly unmovable. Steve may be stubborn, but he has nothing on Bucky. “It’s a final resort?”  
  
Bucky huffs a small laugh and nods his head. “Always, final resort.”  
  
Steve takes in a massive breath and exhales, everything settling. Putting all their cards on the table, getting it all out brings everything back into focus. "It's not us until we get into some sort of a fight huh, Buck?"  
  
Bucky smiles. "Who needs a welcome home party when you've got us.” He glances around the kitchen, the glass shattered by the wall and the marble all over the floor. “Want help cleaning up?"  
  
"Yeah." Steve laughs, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck.  
  
“You’re a punk,” Bucky says as he grabs Steve’s shoulder.  
  
“And you’re a jerk.” Steve smiles back and Bucky’s face brightens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again so much for reading this chapter!  
> Chapter Three and four coming very soon my lovelies, approx about a week *kisses*  
> Leave me a comment telling me what you think so far *hugs*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said it was gonna be a week to wait for the next chapter and here I am a couple days early *nick fury voice* cause I’m nice like that. 
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than the first few but that just means that the one after it is longer so it makes up the difference! 
> 
> Noah_Bee is back at it again with being the best Beta Bean - she's been editing like a madwoman, she's the best

Bucky isn't sure where he is. The corridor is long and narrow, the reddish hue saturating the walls and the wooden floors. He takes in his immediate surroundings. The wall is directly behind him; forcing him to follow the hallway. Automatically, he feels for a firearm on his right thigh, only to find he’s unarmed. He doesn’t even have a knife on him, for Christ’s sake. 

Halfway down the hall, he passes a mirror, catching his reflection from the corner of his eye. It almost doesn’t process for a moment but on second take, Bucky is well... Bucky. The 1940s him. Short hair, slimmer in build but toned. He’s dressed in army issued greens, a small amount of stubble lining his jaw. It’s only when he reaches up to touch his hair that Bucky finally notices his arm; his real arm. Heart pounding, he stares at the hand in the mirror, afraid if he was to look down or look at it directly, all he would find is metal. Reaching up, he runs his fingers over the back of his hand delicately, as if even the lightest touch could cause this to disintegrate. 

A roar of muffled laughter fills the hallway, shocking Bucky back into the moment and away from his new/old hand. Down the hall, a set of wooden doors have appeared… Or were they there the whole time? As he approaches the doors, the music swells in volume. He listens, taking it in - swing music, the sound washing over him. 

He considers it for a moment; turning around, not entering.. just letting this all fall away into the recesses of his mind. 

He breathes in deeply.

Fuck it. 

The brass handle squeaks in time with the creak of the doors, opening up to a flood of warm light and music, encompassing him completely. 

A smile comes unbidden as he drinks in the scene in front of him. 

The bar is familiar - Bucky would swear it’s the same bar the Howling Commandos had been convinced to fight alongside Captain America, except the bar looked... different, like there was a veil over everything. 

The floor is filled with dancers moving and twirling in perfect synchronicity, the women’s skirts fluttering up and their giggles echo after each twist from their partner. Its enchanting, really. The multiple colours of the skirts flaring out creates a kaleidoscope effect; appearing, disappearing, becoming something new, the pattern ever changing. 

A woman no older than twenty runs up, her smile sweeter than his Mama’s apple pie, taking his hand and dragging him onto the raised wooden dance floor. The lights in the bar catch her blonde curls and her emerald green dress, creating something that Bucky can only describe as halo around her. 

Bucky had always enjoyed dancing; with the right partner it was better than any conversation he had with a dame. You don’t have to say a damn thing but by the end of the night, girls were putty in his hand. 

They dance until the end of the song, Bucky kissing the back of her hand and he is rewarded with the same beautiful smile she greeted him with. 

Stepping off the dance floor, Bucky spies the Commandos all packed into a booth. Strange…. Weren’t they originally around a table? The thought drifts away as soon as it appears, drowned out by the sound of their laughter, voices slurring as they roar out a toast. 

“Bucky!” Dum Dum’s voice booms as Bucky appears at the side of the booth. “We’re in need of another round and you’re the schmuck standing up!”

Bucky laughs. “You’re sitting here with full glasses!” 

“Yup,” Dum Dum takes a gulp of his beer, “and by the time you get back, they’ll be collecting dust! Off you go.” Bucky shakes head, resigning himself to getting the drinks. Dum Dum’s laugh is infectious and Bucky can’t help but join in with the rest of them. Bucky claps Mortia on the shoulder as he walks past, Jim winking back in response. 

Bucky taps the top of bar, getting the barman’s attention. “Another round,” he says, gesturing to the booth with his thumb. The barman only shakes his head in response in sheer disbelief at either the amount of alcohol they’re putting away and the size of Steve’s tab.

He looks to the left and sees a now all too familiar shape, hunched over a glass of whiskey. Bucky moves around the corner to see Steve sitting there on a stool in full army dress, his back to him resting his arms on the bar. 

Bucky smiles and clasps a hand on Steve's shoulder, "Whatta ya doing over here, pal? Come on, join the celebrations." 

Startled, Steve jolts around, sliding half out of his seat and pushing up against the edge of the bar, deliberately putting as much distance as possible between himself and Bucky. Fear and helplessness replace his best friend’s usual relaxed and kind demeanor. Steve’s eyes are wide open, focused on Bucky’s face, his breathing ragged and inconsistent. 

Bewilderment and concern twists on Bucky’s face."What is it? What's happened, Steve?" He searches his friend’s face for an answer; any possible reason why he’s so panicked and afraid. 

The music stops suddenly, the silence deafening. Bucky turns and walks around the corner of the bar, trying to find the cause for the sudden silence.

He barely recognises what he sees as the same bar he walked into. All the lights are blown, the room scarcely illuminated by the light of the moon peeking through the curtains of the now shattered windows. 

It’s enough, though.

The beautiful dames, once a gorgeous tapestry of colours on the dance floor, lay unnaturally contorted on the wooden floor, their partners scattered similarly amongst them on the ground.  
There’s no order to how they’re strewn about; some piled on top of each other, as many as three high; some against the wall, collapsed into themselves. Blood stains the hardwood floors, a dark red against the faint blue light. Bucky could clearly see the bullet holes to the torso or head, or deep red cuts to the throat - each of these the cause of death. 

Bucky steps between the dancers, surveying the bodies. In the middle of floor lays the woman he had danced with earlier. She’s on the ground, and instead of the smile that once enchanted him, a gash from each cheek to cheek is in its place; a perfect U. A bullet hole has also been placed precisely between her eyes. 

Bucky stumbles back and then whips around, his thoughts jumping immediately to the Commandos. Some are face down on the table in the booth, pools of blood forming around their heads. Dum Dum is held up against a wall by three knives; one through each hand and the last in his throat. A stream of blood runs from the knife in his throat and stains his shirt dark red, a small gurgling noise escaping from his mouth. 

Mortia is thrown backwards over the wooden partition between the booths, his body limp and bowed face up. He’s looking straight at Bucky, his mouth agape and eyes lifeless. Blood trickles from the bullet hole in between his eyes and onto the floor, dripping into a small puddle beneath his head.

The distinct scent of blood is putrid and wet in the air, stinging Bucky's eyes and pulling at his lungs, making it hard to breathe. 

"What the hell..." Bucky half jogs back to Steve and grabs him by the shoulder, “Steve, buddy, we’ve gotta go.” He looks back out to the bar, double checking that whoever, or whatever it is that did this, hasn’t reappeared. “Come on, get up, pal.” 

He glances back to Steve, a glint of silver catching his attention. His eyes swing back, only to find that his new/old hand is gone, replaced again with his metal. Instead of gripping onto Steve’s shoulder, it’s wrapped tightly around his throat, suffocating him. 

Steve's hands are clawing wildly at Bucky's metal one, not gaining any traction, his face slowly turning a sickening grey colour. 

Before everything changed, Steve was clean shaven, without a single nick on his face. Now his right eye is swollen and there are a collection of nasty cuts along his cheek and jawline, lips are stained red from the blood in his mouth. Bucky feels something wet on his flesh arm, and looks down at Steve’s torso, blood pooling out of an all too familiar hole in his gut, staining the green of his uniform. 

"No…” Bucky glances from the hole in Steve’s abdomen and back to his bluing face. “NO, STOP!" He begs, frantically trying to take back control of the metal arm. But, instead of releasing Steve from the hold like he wishes, wants, pleads, the plates on the arm make a whirring noise, moving and locking in place. In a swift movement, the arm acting independently of the rest of him, Bucky throws Steve down onto the bar top and holds him down by the throat, applying crushing pressure. 

Bucky can only watch, begging for it to stop, for his arm to let Steve go, all the while the life slowly draining from Steve's eyes. Eventually, a small huff of air leave his purple lips and his lifeless eyes stare back up at Bucky, the arm finally releasing its grip.

Stumbling back, Bucky looks from his metal hand to his now limp best friend slumped over the top of the bar. 

He catches his reflection, just over Steve’s body in the mirror behind the bar... Is it his reflection? He recognises it as himself - his Winter Soldier self; nothing like how he looked in the hallway. He sees the guns strapped to his body; holsters on his thighs, straps wrapping around his shoulders to support the gun on his back. He doesn’t spot the knives; doesn’t need to to know they’re there. The reflection’s shoulder length wavy hair obscures most of his face. Apart from the eyes all identifiable features lay hidden in shadow. 

Bucky lifts his arm slowly, the ‘reflection’ doesn’t mimic him. What the hell? He steps to the side, the man follows. What the fuck is going on? The man grabs the handgun from the holster on his right leg and slowly points it at Bucky. 

Fuck. 

Bucky scrambles back, pawing at the usual places on his body that he keeps some form of weapon. None. He backs up, completely against the wall. He has no weapon and no way out. He’s going to die. 

Breathing heavily, he looks at Steve again. Then back to the reflection and directly down the barrel of the gun. 

The reflection curls his finger around the trigger and pulls. 

Bucky wakes up suddenly, a jolt of adrenaline pounding every single nerve ending in his body, launching him upright, the sound of the gunshot still ringing in his ears. All of the sheets are kicked off the bed and have twisted in a pile on the floor. He is drenched in sweat - chest damp, his tracksuit pants stick uncomfortably to his thighs. 

He rubs his palms against his eyes and flops back onto the bed, and can’t help the disappointment twisting inside himself. Another day, another nightmare.

Rolling onto his side, the clock by his bed is softly illuminating the time 04:03. Nine flashes of the dots in the middle of the time. 04:04. 

Finally, a fucking sleep in. 

He rolls onto his back again staring up at the ceiling. Maybe one day he'll sleep past 0500 again. Apparently not anytime soon. 

Steve used to bug him to get out of bed before 8am on the weekends. Always an early riser, wanting to seize the day. If he was healthy he always wanted to embrace it, make the most of the time. Bucky on the other hand enjoyed a lazy start, preferring to spend as much of his morning as possible in bed reading or writing. 

Without fail, Steve will always knock on his door promptly at 7 o’clock, then again at 8, if Bucky hadn't gotten out of bed by 9 Steve would charge in, pulling the covers off the bed and onto the floor - Bucky along with them. Some days it would be a form of amusement, Bucky clinging to the mattress, refusing to get up even once the bedding was stripped bare, Steve reduced to tears of laughter as he pulled at Bucky’s legs trying to get him off the bed.

How times change. 

Bucky rubs his eyes and gets out of bed, gently padding along the floorboards to his bathroom. Splashing water on his face, he pauses, unwilling to raise his head, staring resolutely into the basin. Why is he so hesitant? Get over yourself, Barnes. 

Lifting his head slowly, his reflection looks back at him. His actual reflection. Short of a little paleness, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. He shakes his head - feeling like an asshole. Honestly, what was he expecting? He stares for a moment longer, breathing deeply.

Water. Get some water and chill out - maybe take in that sunrise from the lounge room before Steve gets up. The excessively large window replaces an entire wall in the living room, supplying a fantastic view of the New York sunrise.

Walking softly through the apartment and into the kitchen, he grabs a glass from the cupboard. As he steps towards the tap, he feels a sharp pain in his foot. 

"Fuck." He hisses as he lifts the sole of his foot. A chunk of glass sticks out from the bottom of it, blood forming around the edges - a remnant of the glass Steve destroyed against the wall last night. 

Pulling the glass out of his foot, the blood that was pooling starts to drip steadily onto the floor. He sighs, eyes rolling upwards. "Really? Come on..." Scoffing softly at his own misstep, he places the glass on the kitchen island and hobbles to the fridge. Steve’s injured hand the day before meant Bucky was familiar with the whereabouts of the first aid kit. Bucky continued to mutter to himself as he pulls open the cabinet, the kit tipping out of the doors, landing on Bucky’s head and spilling its contents onto the floor. 

He hangs his head in defeat, closing his eyes and praying for patience. Clearly this morning is a total write off, he can feel it… frustration clawing at him…. ‘Breathe Barnes - just breathe’ he tells himself as he bends down to pick up the different ointments and rolls of bandages. Some antiseptic and cotton balls get put to one side for his foot. 

Steve stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eye, "Buck? What's going on?" 

 

Bucky stares. He can’t help it - honestly what is he supposed to do? He hasn’t seen Steve like this since… well ever. His hair is a mess and pointing every which way, the usually neatly style dishevelled in ways that send Bucky’s mind straight to the gutter. He’s shirtless - basically nude but for his underpants (‘of course he is - of course he sleeps like that’ Bucky thinks furiously to himself). Who is this Calvin Klein and can he write a letter to them to thank them for their contributions to society? 

Bucky has to forcibly stop a small smirk creeping on his face just at the sight of him. 

His silence gives Steve a moment to survey the crime scene. 

"Are you okay?" Steve takes a few quick steps towards Bucky, concern in his eyes. 

Admittedly still thinking of his carefully worded letter to Mr Klein - is that too formal or should he just call him Calvin? - he snaps back to reality, confused.

Looking around, from the blood on his foot and the blood dragged along the ground of the kitchen then back to Steve’s face. "Oh yeah." He points to the chunk of bloody glass on the kitchen counter. "We missed one last night." 

Without pause or skipping a beat, Steve pulls a stool from the kitchen island, “Come on.” 

Bucky obeys and sits, resting his foot across his own knee, inspecting it. It’s nothing major, barely anything considering what he’s been through before, but for some reason he’s bleeding like a stuck pig. 

Steve grabs the bandages, moving to the stool opposite Bucky and takes a seat. He lightly taps his knee, signalling for Bucky to place his foot there.

Bucky starts to protest but a simple "Shh" from Steve puts him in his place before he starts fussing around. Always fussing. Bucky doesn’t particularly mind, but at the same time it’s just a damn cut, he’s gonna heal in a few hours.

As he’s working on his foot, Bucky notes Steve’s hand from the night before. The one he had wrapped less than 12 hours ago. Healed completely. Steve’s cut was deep, deeper than his, and it would take Bucky the better part of a day to heal fully. Considering how similar the serums were, it strikes him as strange how differently the effects manifested between them.

It’s quiet as Steve works for a few moments before he looks up at Bucky from under his lashes, “There, perfect.” Bucky meets his gaze, Steve gives Bucky a small smile, flicking the new bandage. Bucky’s return smile slips away as his heart suddenly pounds in his chest.

Steve narrows his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Bucky's furrows his eyebrows. "Of course, why?" 

"You're as white as a sheet Buck. It's just a little blood." Steve smirks. Bucky isn’t fooled though - he knows Steve is asking a genuine question.  
“Oh,” Bucky considers for a second whether he should tell Steve about his nightmares. “Don’t worry about it, Steve.” He moves his foot from Steve’s knee and tries out a weak smile. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Steve continues inspecting Bucky. "You don't have to do this alone. Let me help." Steve straightens up, getting comfortable in his stool. “It’s sort of why you’re here with me and not Natasha down the hall. You can tell me anything.” 

Can he really open up that can of worms? “‘Hi, I have nightmares about killing you and countless others basically every night, but I think I’m sort of okay because I’m getting so used to not sleeping that I can pretty much function on nothing” Yeah, that’ll go down a treat, Barnes. 

Steve interrupts his train of thought, “Just think of me as a sounding board. I’ll sit here and listen till you’re done and if you need anything more, just say.” 

Bucky turns it over in his head. He knows Steve genuinely wants to help, as always. 

It’s like chewing on gravel but he eventually speaks. “I have nightmares,” he shrugs, “most nights. It’s all your usual… stuff. They wake me up at this time most mornings. You’ve just caught me after a bad one.” 

True to his word Steve sits silently, eyes gently focused on Bucky. “I’m okay, Steve, seriously... just go back to bed cause, yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

Steve lets out a deep breath, "You know I have nightmares, too?” Bucky shakes his head, he hadn’t seen anything like that in Steve’s file. Steve nods as if reading Bucky’s mind. “I’ve never told anyone.”

Steve rests his forearms on the kitchen island. Bucky gets a brief flash to the Steve he saw in his dream, hunched over his whiskey. Bloodied. Dead. He pushes the image as far away as possible.

“I had nightmares every night from the day you fell off that train to the day I put the plane in the water.” Steve continues, “ And it was the 40s, no one cared if you had PTSD, you know, it was the war. Everyone who served had something. No one cared if you woke up in the night screaming, at least you were alive. But they should’ve cared. For some people it was worse, living instead of dying. So when I woke up, de-iced, no one thought to ask Captain America if he had trouble sleeping at night. After a while I eventually told Peg, but not all of it. I couldn’t put that on her, after everything. It wasn’t until I met Sam that he told me I needed some coping mechanisms and... well, here we are.”

It occurs to Bucky how alone must Steve have felt when he woke up, before he found Peggy again, before he met Nat and Sam? Walking around in a world where everyone thinks they know you but in reality, no one does. 

Steve looks over to Bucky. “We were wrong back then. We couldn’t have been more wrong.” His eyes are intensely focused on Bucky. “To ignore it and let our friends, ourselves - suffer like we did just because we thought it was all part of the war. Don’t let that backwards thinking that we were taught affect you now.” 

Bucky sits quietly for a moment, drinking in everything Steve had said. “The hardest part is how real they feel, it’s fucked up. I expect to wake up with blood on my hands, or the face in the mirror isn’t going to be mine.” 

Steve’s back to listening mode, quiet and focused on Bucky. “So.” Bucky takes a small breath, preparing himself. “Doctor Wilkes says there are two different kinds of PTSD nightmares. There are nightmares where you relive particular memories over and over again and then there are ones that that represent the trauma itself. Sometimes it different but there are parts that don’t change. It manifests in the person’s mind differently each time. That one’s me.” 

Steve nods, “What do you see?”

No amount of preparation could help Bucky try to explain this. There isn’t really a good place to start, so he decides to bite the bullet “I, uh,” he runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I, well, the Winter Soldier, kills you. And not just you. Others too. Strangers, or the Commandos. It changes. Except the part with you. Except the part I kill you. Brutally.” Bucky drops his gaze from Steve. “And when it’s all done,” he pauses, “I wake up.” 

Steve kicks the foot of Bucky’s stool, getting his attention, “At least look at me when you tell me you kill me every night.” Steve winks and gives him a little grin. Bucky rolls his eyes “Dork”. 

Steve’s face sobers as he continues, “It’s okay. To be honest, I get it. You’re scared you’re gonna hurt me again, like in DC. Losing control like that, not knowing what you’re doing, hurting the people that matter most to you. That’s scary. It’s okay to be scared.” Steve gives him a small smile as he gets up, moving to the coffeemaker and turning it on. 

Bucky smiles to himself, when did this beefcake get so worldly? “So, how did you manage your nightmares? I could use some tips ‘cause, honestly, I’m tired of hearing ‘give it time’.” 

Steve is scooping coffee grounds into the machine. He turns and pauses, looking at Bucky, sizing up his next words carefully. “You came back. Knowing you were alive, it made everything easier.” He turns back to scooping the coffee into the machine. Looking over his shoulder he adds, “I know that doesn’t necessarily help you.” 

No, Bucky thinks, maybe it does. “I think Natasha is right. Being here, in this tower, everyone has something, you know? Their own demons. Is it strange that I find that comforting?”

Steve smiles in response, handing the coffee cup over to Bucky. “Yeah, but you’ve always been a strange guy.” 

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of them before Bucky eyes the time. “You don’t have to stay up with me Steve, you could squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep.” 

He just shrugs. “I’m usually getting up now anyway, it’s no worry to me, Buck. I like your company.” 

“Well,” Bucky moves to the other side of the counter where Steve is and takes an exaggerated sip of his coffee. “If you’re gonna stay up, then maybe some pants would help?” He looks at Steve and then directs a pointed look at his underwear. 

Steve looks down and it finally dawns on him that he’s been in his underwear for the entirety of their heart to heart. To say he goes bright red would be a gross understatement. “Oh my god, I’ll uh…. Go put some pants on. Sorry.” 

If he thinks Bucky is done toying with him, he’s very wrong. “There’s no need to get your knickers in a knot, Rogers, we all do it!” Bucky calls down the hallway at Steve. “I mean, I usually prefer a drink before she shows me things only the Lord is allowed to see but,” he exaggeratedly shrugs when he sees Steve reappearing in the hall, “I’ll make an exception.” 

Walking back into the room, sweats donned, Steve points an accusatory finger at Bucky. “James Buchanan Barnes, you have seen those Lord intended parts on many pretty dames, without having to buy a single damn drink and you know it!” 

Bucky takes a sip of his coffee and contemplatively walks to the living room, “I never said anything about a drink for them. I can’t speak for their morals and courting rules but for me,” he dramatically holds his hand over his heart for comedic effect, “it’s a drink or nothing, Rogers. My body is a temple and I must respect its rituals and traditions.” He flops into the armchair for extra effect.

Steve throws his head back, laughing with his whole body, full and genuine. Nothing held back. It brings Bucky a selfish kind of happiness that he can make Steve laugh like that, knowing few others can. No matter what they both go through, they always manage to find a way back to each other and at the end of the day, they can be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write because i do like dabbling in the darker side of things (in relation to Bucky's dream) and plan to for later in this fic as well. Saying that, i dont think its /that/ dark. Let me know what you think if it worked or if it didnt? Thank you for reading again!! 
> 
> The next chapter is around 2 weeks from now so i'm sorry for the delay! I'm still at uni and i cosplay as well so i'm jumping between finishing major assignments, finishing my Stealth Suit Steve Rogers and Writing this fic but lucky i have Noah_Bee yelling at me every two days about writing more so *kisses*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hi, yes you with the face! If you didnt know, Noah_Bee is the best Bean and best Beta for how quickly she edits! I hope you enjoy!

"So, are you ready?" 

They’ve been up for hours, long enough to drink in the New York sunrise. Steve had never thought of it as a window really, it was definitely a wall... If walls were comprised of ceiling to floor reinforced, bulletproof glass. 

Tony seemed to have planned that for him when designing his floor - in every room you could see the city in all its glory. 

There’s no mistaking that Tony (and Pepper) have done as much as possible to make them comfortable. 

"Ready for what?" Bucky responds, draped over an armchair, legs dangling off the arm rest and head resting on the back of the chair. The morning sun dances along his jaw, glistening. Stretching out his arms behind him, Bucky’s abs pull tight as he creates an arch in his lower back over the chair’s armrest. Steve catches it from the corner of his eye. For the first time he wonders what life as a chair would be like. 

"Breakfast." Steve responds. Switching off the morning news, he quickly stands up and collects the cups from the coffee table. Anything to distract him.

"Well, I mean, it's just another meal, Steve. What's there to be ready for?" Bucky rolls his eyes, straightening up. 

Smartass. Steve chuckles, "Breakfasts can be a bit of an event." He runs some water in the cups and continues talking to Bucky who's still in the living room. "Especially today. The word would be out that you're staying here now, so everyone is going to make sure to be there to see you. Thor is still wrapping some things up from his latest visit and Clint stayed last night, it’s gonna be a full house.” He dries off his hands and returns to the living room. 

Bucky is sitting very still in his chair.

"If that's okay with you, Buck?" Idiot, meeting the rest of the team all at once is a huge thing to drop on a guy. Especially after the night he’s had. You didn’t even think, Rogers. Asshole. 

Bucky though, doesn't miss a beat and gives a half smile to Steve, "It's got to happen one time or another, why not now?" 

It’s strange how brave people can be with the smallest of acts. Bucky has always been brave. Not just now, post Hydra, post Winter Soldier. Always. Back before the war, when Steve was sick. The days where Steve’s life would be on a day by day play, too ill to move further than the bed to the bathroom, when even that was too far. Bucky would never falter. Always positive, making jokes and lifting Steve’s spirits, even though it was hard never knowing if he was going to wake up one morning with his best friend gone. Despite this, there was never a crack in his armour, at least not one he ever showed Steve. It’s the little acts of bravery that are the most testing, the ones with no reward, not “showy” save the world acts. Acts that are quiet, that no one sees, no one acknowledges. That’s when people are bravest. 

And James Buchanan Barnes is the bravest man he has ever known. 

Steve rolls his eyes, "Well it's a formal affair so toss on a shirt and we’ll head down." 

\---- 

The elevator dings when it hits the third floor. 

Jarvis' voice comes over the speaker in the elevator, "Third floor; communal living space and gym. Enjoy breakfast, Steve and James." 

Bucky backs out of the elevator as the doors open, staring at the speaker. "So Jarvis looks after the place right? Security and… everything else yeah? How does it know that I’m not a threat? There’s gotta be some kind of system I would’ve had to be put in before I even rocked up." 

Steve looks back and sees Bucky still enamoured with Jarvis. Steve did his best to explain who Jarvis is (Tony’s baby) and how he came to be (ummm...) but he couldn’t really answer any of Bucky’s questions. Jarvis was unable to assist Steve in his explanation as well. Steve had asked him to avoid their floor for the first 24 hours of Bucky’s visit to help him adapt to the new living quarters. 

Bucky’s interest in technology isn’t news to Steve. He’s always has an insatiable curiosity when it came to most things in science. The Stark Tech Expo was just scratching the surface. He would hoard books and for weeks after finishing a new book he would constantly drop random facts on Steve. “Did you know, the ocean is 8 Empire State Buildings deep?” and “Steve, look what it says here, it takes 8 minutes 17 seconds for light to travel from the Sun’s surface to the Earth. What the hell.” Or, Steve’s personal favourite one, “There’s scientists out there that are working towards going to the moon. How in HELL are we getting to the moon? We’re not gonna see it, not in our lifetime, trust me, buddy.” Well, that time he wasn’t wrong. They never did SEE it. The fact there is a literal God of Thunder that could probably transport them directly to the moon living above them is a whole other story.

Jarvis’ voice snaps Steve back into reality, “I am sorry sir, but it is pertinent that you move for me to be able to close the doors, James.” 

Bucky lets out a small laugh, completely impressed. 

Steve pats him on the back, "Come on, you can come ask Tony about Jarvis and pick his brain. I would love to tell you more but I'm pretty sure I would leave out a couple of details... like how it actually works.”

Bucky just nods and trails behind Steve heading into the kitchen area. 

It’s a tale as old as time; Clint and Natasha in the Great Coffee Battle and its raged on for longer than Steve has been in their lives. You’d think it would’ve died down by now, but according to Fury, it’s only gotten worse. Clint, forever the artisan, always wants his coffee to be perfect; perfect blend, taste and brew. Natasha, on the other hand, seems to throw a couple teaspoons of dirt in the grounds when she makes a pot. After a while, Natasha did let Steve teach her how to make coffee properly, but her commitment to always being a thorn in Clint’s side wins out every time. 

Natasha is sat with her back to the window and looking across the table and into the kitchen, talking to Clint, "You've got to be kidding me, it's not that bitter!" her poker face mastered. 

"Yeah sure,” Clint shoves the coffee pot back into the machine, “I might as well just snort the ground up beans like meth, it would be easier to handle than this swill." 

"You have no working concept about how meth works, do you?" She takes a sip from her coffee from the table, smirking at him over the rim. 

Off to the the side of the bickering, Bruce and Tony are huddled together in the middle of a heated discussion over by the window sill. It’s not particularly unusual, especially if there’s a new experiment running in the lab. He can’t hear what they’re are saying, but he hardly needs to. Bruce takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, Steve doesn’t need to know what’s being said - undoubtedly, Tony is being completely unreasonable, outrageous and overly ambitions; the classic Stark. Bruce raises his hands in surrender, following as Tony gestures to the door. 

Steve chimes into Natasha and Clint’s conversation, "Or you can use the second pot that we have and make your own, Barton." 

Natasha stays seated, throwing a small smile, "Howdy boys." 

Clint finishes wiping off his hands on a dishtowel, "Yeah, sure, and waste more of these good beans?" He smiles, "Mornin' Cap." He walks towards Bucky, still lingering in the doorway, and extends his left hand. "You must be James. Or Bucky. Heard a lot about you.” 

Bucky hesitates for a moment, then sticks out his metal hand and returns the shake. 

Clint has an amazing ability to make people feel welcome. By putting his left hand out, it was Clint’s quiet way of accepting Bucky. Not just his metal hand, but everything attached to it. Such a simple action says so much and Steve has never felt more grateful to Clint. 

Bucky smiles, "You must be Hawkeye." 

"You can call me Clint.” He points to them both. “Coffee?" 

Steve responds, "Thanks Clint - we’re happy to take Natasha's version of it though." He follows Clint into the kitchen near the coffee pots. 

Clint starts up but Steve tunes him out, listening into Natasha calling out to Bucky. 

"Come sit next to me, Barnes." She pats the seat next to her. 

Bucky walks over and sits down next to Natasha, softly responding to her murmured questions. 

Steve turns his attention back to Clint then, "All I'm sayin' is a good coffee is the most important part of any morning and waking up to Natasha’s brew is just askin’ for it.”

Steve smiles as he pours his coffee, "You’re forgetting, I was in the war. If you had any coffee at all, it was a great day. You could’ve had a cup of hot dirt… Natasha’s would have been welcomed in any of the trenches." He takes a long sip and looks at Clint the entire time. A taunting smile playing on his lips. 

Clint starts muttering about “playing the war card” as he turns to grab the milk out of the fridge. By the time he turns back, his muttering is over. "So how does it feel?" 

Steve snaps his gaze from Natasha and Bucky, "How does what feel?" 

Clint leans on the counter, cradling his cup in his hands. "Having your best friend back?" 

Steve smiles and looks back toward Bucky, who laughs quietly at something Natasha said. "It's great." 

Clint pats Steve on the shoulder and starts loading up some of the cooked bacon from the fry pan to the plate and takes it over to the table. There’s also a batch of pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, sautéed mushrooms and a series of condiments laid out, Clint must’ve cooked up a storm today. 

Natasha eyes off the bacon as Clint walks over, “Where are those nerds, I’m starving.”

Clint puts down the plate, "Eat up, if they want a cold breakfast they’ll get one,” gesturing to the doorway that Tony and Bruce left through. “Thor’s not coming, he’s gone to Jane’s - so we might actually get something to eat.”

Steve takes a seat next to Bucky, whose pancake tower is threatening to lean, his eyes bright. "And Sam?" 

"His flight is getting in later than he expected, he left a message with Jarvis.” Clint sits down on the other side of Natasha, “Don't let breakfast get cold." He waves his hands and grabs the spoon with the scrambled eggs. 

They load up their plates and eat, talking about the morning news - Nat’s latest stint on Capitol Hill is still all the press are talking about. News of Bucky being stateside hasn’t hit the media yet, and the longer they keep it that way, the better.

Clint is demonstrating the face of one of the Board members during Natasha’s speech when Tony and Bruce re-enter the room. Clearly done with their previous discussion, they walk straight to the coffee machine and pour themselves a cup. Tony throws his gaze across the room and turns immediately into Bruce, muttering to him. Bruce glances over his shoulder, murmuring a quiet response. 

Steve looks directly at them focussing on what they’re saying. It becomes evident after a minute that they’re talking about Bucky, but the most he can pick up is “Touch” and “Metal”. 

Steve grips his knife a little too tightly. Bucky clears his throat to get his attention and they lock eyes. A simple shake of Bucky’s head and years of nonverbal communication, “Don’t worry about it, Steve.” 

This is one thing Steve will always worry about. 

Steve cocks his head to the side, jaw set, “Anything you want to share with the group, Bruce? Tony?” Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Bucky drop his head, Natasha studying the room through narrowed eyes and Clint looks between Steve and Tony, unaware anything was even happening. 

Bruce looks up to everyone staring at the two of them. Tony’s back is to the room, still muttering. Bruce’s face reddens as he whispers, “Tony, Tony.” A sharp jab of Bruce’s elbow is what causes Tony to actually shut up and face them. 

Bruce is the first to speak, “I’m sorry, we’re being rude aren’t we,” he walks over to the table and sits down across from Natasha,looking at Bucky, “I’m Bruce Banner, it’s nice to finally meet you James.” He smiles awkwardly at Bucky and looks to Natasha. She only shakes her head in response. “Sorry… Bucky” he says, lamely. She rolls her eyes, mouthing “idiot” at him. 

“Oh we’re just chatting - science talk. There’s no need to apologise for a scientific discussion,” Tony saunters over to the table and pats Bruce on the shoulder. “We were actually having a rather riveting conversation,” He sits down directly across from Bucky locking eyes with him. “About you.”

The silence drags, the tension in the room palpable. Steve is drilling holes into the side of Tony’s head. Tony on the other hand, hasn’t even glanced at Steve, purposely ignoring him. If Tony puts a single toe out of line, this table is going to hit the goddamn wall. 

“Maybe you could help us,” Tony grabs the spoon to the scrambled eggs and starts loading up his plate. “We’re discussing if your arm here,” He gestures with his spoon to Bucky’s metal arm, “has any form of feeling sensation. If someone were to say, I don’t know, brush their hand on it, or a bomb was to blow the whole thing off, would you feel that, or would it be completely nothing, no feeling at all? I, personally, think you would and he,” Tony shoves the spoon in Bruce’s direction, “thinks it doesn’t because it’s a metal arm from the dark ages.” 

There’s a heavy pause as everyone waits for Bucky to answer. Steve studies him closely, unsure how he’s going to react to Tony’s particular brand of invasive, rocket fast questioning. 

Bucky looks between the two scientists for a moment and then looks down to his metal hand and back to them, “You’re actually not the first person to ask.” He glances quickly towards Natasha and she smiles in response. When she’s had the opportunity to ask, Steve has no idea.

Bucky continues, “At first when I touched it or someone else did, I thought it was like ghost syndrome.” 

Subconsciously, Bucky’s hand traces the scar line where skin meets metal on his shoulder. Tony leans back in the chair, drumming his fingers on the table and nodding along as Bucky speaks. “One day I was sparring with some new Hydra recruits, one managed to get in close and shove a knife in under one of the plates. I felt pain... Then I realised that the wires are connected to nerve endings in my body, on my shoulder. Later on I found out it was to make me more efficient. If I couldn’t feel anything that side of my body was wide open. I don’t think they were really thinking about… well, it doesn’t really matter.”

Bucky forces a half smile to Tony. Everything about what they did to Bucky was specifically to make him a more deadly fighter. Hydra wasn’t thinking of someone carefully touching him when they added the nerve endings to the arm.They only thought about how to enhance their weapon. Just thinking about it sickens Steve to his stomach. 

Bucky continues, “Of course, as technology advanced over the years, my arm had to as well.” 

Bruce interrupts, “I’m sorry, you’ve had more than one arm?” 

“I actually have two on me right now.” Steve snorts, a threat of the orange juice that he just sipped coming out. It takes a moment for the rest of the table to realise that this was a joke. 

“So long story short, yes if my arm was blown up in an explosion or something, I can feel pain. Touching is a little different because there’s obviously this metal covering the wires,” he drums his fingers on the plates on his bicep, “It’s almost like holding your hand up to someone else’s with a thick blanket in the middle.” Bucky holds his hands up to demonstrate, “You know what it’s like to touch their hand so you’re imagining it but you’re not actually feeling it properly. It’s dulled.”

Bruce slides a five dollar note across the table to Tony. He’s silent as he pockets it, looking at Bucky’s arm through narrowed eyes. Leaning forward Tony looks to Bruce, “You know we could maybe tinker around with it,” A glance to Bucky, “if you’ll let us, that is,” Back to Bruce, “see if we can’t dial that human touch setting up to ten whilst -“ 

Bruce cuts him off, suddenly on the same wavelength, “maintaining the pain ratio. Kind of like -” 

Bucky joins in absentmindedly, a forkful of pancake hovering outside his mouth, “The sound effects on a television. Turning up the music but muting the conversations.” 

A proud little smile pulls at Steve’s face at Tony’s silence. Bucky is smart - damn smart. The whole world’s going to know it someday. 

Tony flips his spoon, pointing it at Bucky before finally looking at Steve, “He can stay. Also we were being horribly rude before and I deeply apologise. Tony Stark.” 

Bucky nods slightly, “Yeah, I figured.” 

Nat leans over to Bucky likes she’s going to whisper but says normally, “Stark’s apologies are rare, I would gather that acorn up because you’re gonna need it come winter.” She shoots Tony a look. 

Bucky’s smile at the quip is the turning point in the conversation, everyone relaxing a little. 

Steve though, he’s still tense but he can’t put a finger on the reason why. Bucky can fight his own battles, but there’s something inside of him that has the urge to defend him till his last breath. Steve makes a mental note to relax more as everyone turns back to their food. 

Bruce takes a sip of his coffee and pulls a face into the cup, “Clint, did you make the coffee this morning?” 

Natasha puts down her knife and leans on the table, staring Bruce down, “No, I did. Why do you ask?” 

Bruce rallies quickly and grabs his cup, “No reason,” he takes a sip and coughs, “It’s great.” 

Returning to her pile of bacon she smiles at herself and Steve has to take a sip from his coffee to stop the laughter from rising. 

Tony’s phone buzzes then, an incoming notification. He brushes his hands off and finishes the mouthful of toast. “Speak to me, Jarvis.” 

Jarvis’s voice comes over the loudspeaker of the phone, “Ms. Potts’ flight is going to land in approximately two hours, Mr Stark. You requested I inform you, to ensure everything was returned to its original state.” 

Tony forces a smiles, “I think I remember asking you to remind me so i could pick her up, but that’s fine too. Thank you, Jarvis.” He clicks the phone off with a small flourish of his hand. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Bucky looking at Tony. It takes him a few seconds but Steve eventually finds Bucky’s foot under the table with his and gives it a kick. 

Steve sighs, “Just ask.” 

Clint perks up, “Who’s asking who, what now?” 

Bucky shoots a look to Steve and then turns to Tony, “I was asking Steve before in the elevator but bless him, he’s just a pretty face.” Steve rolls his eyes, but he probably deserved that. “I was curious, how does Jarvis work?”

Tony chuckles, “Well, you’re not wrong about that, Barnes.” He turns to Steve, “That tiny t-shirt is doing wonders for you.” Steve shrugs in response. 

“But sadly, after the Great Breakfast Battle of 2013, I am not allowed to discuss Jarvis before 12 anymore and even though Pepper is not here to enforce it, I’ve found she sees all.” A small glare to Natasha, who sweetly smiles back. He takes a sip of his coffee and points to Bucky, “But, the minute the clock strikes 12.01 it’s game on. I’ll come and meet you on your floor, take you on a walking tour of the Lab and we’ll talk Jarvis.” 

Bucky nods his head, “Sounds great. I’ll remember to bring a tape recorder ‘cause if this is you calm, God knows how fast you talk about something you’re interested in.” 

Tony acts mock offended, “A tape recorder. Cap, your friend is hurting my science feelings.” He pulls out his phone, “I have so much to teach you, Jarvis, clear my afternoon.”

Jarvis’ voice fills the room, “You already had absolutely nothing on, Sir.” 

Maintaining eye contact with Bucky, Tony narrows his eyes, “Good.” 

\----

Breakfast carried on as usual. Clint’s feast had left them all in a food coma and Steve was happy to sit back and listen to the chatter. Bucky fit in great with the group, keeping up with the banter and fast paced conversation. 

After a while, everyone moves to start cleaning up the plates and kitchen mess. It’s only fair that Clint gets to sit back and watch them as he lounges around the table; he did make them a feast. Bucky gets a free pass - Nat calls it his “welcome to the tower” gift. Steve’s explanation for doing it by hand - we shouldn’t rely too heavily on machines to do everything. Nat’s explanation; Steve likes to make them all suffer in his own way. 

Nat and Bruce wash the dishes and pile them up for Tony and Steve to dry, joining Clint and Bucky at the table. When Steve pulls the towels out, Tony conveniently has to take a call. 

Natasha calls out to Steve from the table, “We’re thinking of taking Barnes for a walking tour of the home base before Tony steals him away for science things.” 

Steve looks to Bucky to make sure he’s comfortable with it. A small nod and smile is all the response Steve needs. “Go on, I’ll catch up with you when I’m done here.” 

All four of them exit the kitchen, Natasha at the front of the pack, her voice octaves higher than usual - like the woman who would do the tour guides of the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian, “And if you look to your left, you will see the lounge room, complete with a one Mister Tony Stark. Avoiding his responsibilities. You may think this a rare species, but it’s actually quite common, more like a pest. Moving on.” Their voices fade off into the distance, Steve laughs to himself. 

Tony walks back into the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up, “She’s so subtle.” 

Steve smiles, “That’s our Nat.”

Tony picks up a towel and starts drying, there’s a comfortable silence for a few moments. 

Despite all their arguments, Tony and Steve really are good friends. Their strong personalities clash, neither of them willing to back down from a fight, especially when it comes to people they care about. Tony has a heart of gold and the fact that he’s done all this for the Avengers in the first place, a roof over their heads and and a place to call home, is enough evidence of that. 

After the plates are dried, Steve grabs Tony’s towel from him and folds it up. “Tony,” Tony turns around to face Steve, “I wanted to say thank you for taking Bucky in.”

He taps Steve on the shoulder and moves back to the table, “It’s okay, Cap. Maybe next time you can give me more than five minutes warning before you storm the gates. Although great job finally figuring out how to send a text. Guess you really can teach an old dog new tricks.” He sits down at the table, watching Steve put away the dishes. “In all seriousness though, it does takes a bit to mess around with the security system. Otherwise Jarvis is all too happy to kick someone off the premises.” 

Steve smiles to himself, Bucky was right about the security system. “I’m sorry, I’ll make sure to call beforehand next time.” 

Tony points, “Ten minutes, at the very least.” There’s a short pause before Tony speaks again, “Can I ask you a question, Cap?” 

This could only end well, “Sure.” 

Tony seems to actually think about what he is about to say for a moment, a first time for everything. “Look, I’m happy that your old War buddy is back. We’re all tickled pink about it and we all see the change in you pal - little extra spring in your step.” Steve’s eye narrow minutely - what change? He hasn’t changed - Tony powers through, “But,” he raises his arms in a mock surrender, “I’m only asking this because you may be have been a little biased when you first got the all clear about Barnes but,” he drops his hands again, “Are you sure he’s okay to be here, in the tower? I mean, yesterday I was playing around with the security clearance and I didn’t know whether to open the floodgates, leave a couple closed, I have no idea. How do we know he’s better, hm? That the Red Peril isn’t going to wake up and flip out on us? I’m not really looking for a play date with the Winter Soldier. You’re giving me that look like you want to punch me, which is fair, but it wasn’t too long ago when he tried to kill you, Cap. I’ve got to ask.” 

Steve *is* giving Tony a look but he tries to suppress it. “Tony, the therapist cleared him. He’s fine. And I wasn't going to leave him there, not when he’s been all alone for months. I just wanted him out of there and somewhere closer to a place like home as soon as possible.” Steve pauses, “Doctor Wilkes said that there was no threat of the Winter Soldier reappearing. Apart from his PTSD, which is understandable given recent events, he’s okay. She suggested to get him somewhere more like home and I wasn’t going to argue.” 

Steve gestures around him (granted its a kitchen but he’s trying to make a point), “Where else would I bring him where he would belong? We live in a tower with The Hulk, a professional assassin from the KGB, a God of Thunder,” he gestures to Tony, “a Genius, Playboy, Billionaire, Philanthropist,” Then to himself, “a Super Soldier from the 40s who took a 70 year nap, and you know,” A shrug, “Clint.” 

Tony chuckles and Steve continues, “You’ve met him, Tony. He’s a good guy with a bad history, like the rest of us.” Steve moves and sits down next to Tony at the table. He’s had too many deep and meaningfuls in kitchens lately, “You’re right though, I should’ve talk to you all first.” 

Tony makes an exaggerated pat down of his pockets, “I need Barnes’ tape recorder, you said I was right. Jarvis, did you get that? This needs to go in the Smithsonian.” 

Steve takes a deep breath. If there’s ever a moment to tell Tony about Bucky’s kill switch, this was it. He can’t imagine Nat would have told him. Does he need to know, or does it only need to be kept between Nat, Bucky and himself? Tony and his whole thing right now is about communication, so it’s now or never Rogers. 

“As it turns out, Bucky was two steps ahead of you.” Tony furrows his brow and sits back, arms crossed in his chair, ready to listen, “Long story short, Bucky only allowed himself to leave under one condition. Natasha’s got control of a kill switch if the Winter Soldier resurfaces. She has Bucky’s life in her hands.” 

Tony sits forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his thighs, this new information having taken him for a turn. “He’s ready to die if the Winter Soldier takes over again?” Steve nods. “Are you okay with that?” 

It’s possibly the stupidest question Tony’s asked in his life because he knows the answer - of course fucking not. Tony’s asking to be a good friend. Steve shrugs his shoulders lightly, “There’s no persuading him.” 

“The kid’s smart though, better to have Natasha to do it than you.” Tony smiles and pats Steve’s knee before sitting back again. Thinking.

Tony sighs, “I trust you, Cap and I’m open to trusting Barnes too. I’m sorry about before, I just want everyone to be safe. I needed to check.” 

Steve half smiles, “Me too.” 

Tony’s phone starts buzzing again, Jarvis alerting him. He sighs and taps the screen, “This better be important Jarvis, I’m bonding.” 

“Ms. Pott’s plane has landed, sir, and she has asked me to tell you that she has taken your platinum card to the airport bar. Ms Potts requested I inform you that she is not angry, however I’m unable to verify the accuracy of this statement.” Jarvis’ voice buzzes off the loudspeaker of the phone. 

Tony gets up out the chair and shoves the phone back in his pocket. “Yeah, I’m gonna pay for that later. I’ve gotta go, Cap.” 

Steve gets up and walks to the elevator with him, “Sounds like you gotta start working on your speech.”

He presses the down button and the doors open. Stepping inside, Tony turns around to Steve, “You’re good at those aren't you? I’m thinking something like your one in DC - take out the patriotism and add in a few ‘I’m sorry’s’, we’re good to go. Send me through the draft.” He drops his sunglasses into place as the doors of the elevator close. Tony Stark, always the showman. 

Steve turns to find where Nat, Bruce, Clint and Bucky went. 

He’s glad that, in the end, there wasn't a fight with Tony. Given some of their past discussions, that was a frolic down the garden path. Bucky’s place is here, with people like him and people who can help him feel accepted. That he matters, not his past.

He turns the corner and pushes the double doors to the gym hearing Bruce laughing and the familiar sounds of Nat and Clint’s taunting; Steve knows he’s in the right place. 

They’re all over by the climbing wall, and Bruce is standing beneath the three of them, laughing. About three quarters of the way to the top in order is Natasha, Bucky and Clint, holding onto the wall. Even though none of them need it, the ropes hanging from the roof are tied around their waists, just a safety precaution. Nat and Clint are heckling Bucky, trying to psyche him out. 

Admittedly, if Steve knew where they were heading, he would have warned Bucky of Natasha and Clint’s nefarious ways, sabotaging anyone from reaching the top before them. 

He hangs back and watches the whole scene unfold. This should be fun. 

Bucky and Clint go on up the wall as normal, but Natasha moves off to the opposite side of the wall to Bucky, preparing for her move; a Black Widow classic, launching herself across the wall with a knee to the bottom of the thigh of her victim, right above the knee to give the recipient a dead leg - can’t climb if you can’t feel your leg. Steve has been on the wrong end of a few too many of those. Say what you want about super soldier serum, you take one of Nat’s knees in a sensitive spot, you’re down. 

Clearly though, Bucky is a smarter man than Steve. He glances to the side whilst she’s getting in position and Steve sees him immediately figure out what she’s about to do. 

Pretending like he hasn’t noticed, he readies himself, and Steve can see the metal plates on Bucky’s arm moving and locking in place. As Natasha swings over, Bucky throws himself up about three metres into the air, his metal arm grabbing onto the wall. He groans a little as his arm takes the weight, quickly bringing his legs in close and tight to his chest.

Instead of hitting Bucky, Natasha hits Clint’s thigh, who lets out a groan in pain, dropping off the wall. Natasha launches herself off Clint, gripping onto the wall well below where she started.

Bucky looks down at them both and uses it as his opportunity to climb the rest of the wall and hits the button at the top. The timer stops and Bucky hangs at the top of the wall by one hand, a big grin on his face. He looks down at Clint, sitting on the ground massaging his thigh and yelling up at Bucky - something about how metal arms are an unfair advantage. Nat pushes away from the wall with Bruce holding the rope to let her down gently. 

Steve watches as Bucky looks outward, scanning his view of the gym, a smile on Bucky’s face. God, that smile is the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen. He eventually finds Steve, holding his gaze. 

Have you ever experienced something that burns its way into your mind, and you know that you’ll never forget it? It’s a moment, an image, anything that cements in the mind, staying there forever. 

Steve has a few of these: Peggy’s face before she kissed him; the Commadoes sitting at the table, raising their glasses; the Avengers all eating shawarma. 

He has so many of Bucky.The first time Bucky had saved his reckless ass from an alleyway fight; their hug goodbye before Bucky was shipped off to war; Bucky’s face when he wouldn’t leave Steve behind at Azzano, refusing to leave without him. They’re not all so good; seeing Bucky strapped to the table, scared to death, knowing Zola had done something to him; Bucky falling from the train, gripping at the air wildly; Bucky’s face when the Winter Soldier’s mask fall off, no recognition of Steve on it.

You don’t remember the whole moment - just a second. Just the part that hits you in the chest like a freight train; the part that knocks the air out of your lungs. Steve knows this is going to be another snapshot carved in his memory, forever remembered. 

Bucky’s smile goes from smug and cocky, to sweet upon seeing Steve. Steve’s eyes soften as he smiles back at his best friend. 

James Buchanan Barnes is exactly where he belongs. And he’s not going anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading the next instalment! This chapter was interesting to write because I always worry about writing the other Avengers and getting their voices wrong ahah.  
> Feel free to drop a comment or a Kudos if you liked it! (or dont, I'm not your supervisor).  
> The next chapter will be up soon, Noah_Bee and I are having a lot of fun writing and brainstorming for this one so i can't wait for you to read it as well! :D  
> I promise it'll be soon, I've got to finish a cosplay for a con coming up but there will be another chapter out just before I start back up at uni!! Don't go far *kisses*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> If you're new here, Noah_Bee really does spend most of her day yelling at me lovingly and i wouldnt be anywhere without her. One day i will bully her into her own fic but, for now read this because she helps so much with it <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter - this is where it starts getting interesting i think and theres definitely a whole bunch of that to come.

“Steve… come on, pal.” 

It’s quiet and dark in their apartment. The night had caught up to them as they sat watching the TV; comfortable in their silence. Steve had been slowly nodding off to the quiet hum of the news, laid out on the couch on his stomach.

The day had been draining to say the least. As the morning dragged on, more and more people arrived at the tower to welcome Bucky. 

They had just exited the gym when a large bolt of lightning struck the tower; reverberating through the halls. Everyone except Bucky continued, unperturbed. Bucky, on the other hand, stopped dead in his tracks. “What the hell?” He barely got another word out before Thor’s voice boomed down the hallway. “Ah! Well met James Barnes! It is a pleasure to meet you, friend. Steve Rogers has told me many tales about you.” He clapped his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, causing him to stumble forward a couple paces. “I eagerly await to hear some of your own tales.” Bucky could only nod in response, struggling to take in the God in front of him. 

A while later, Sam returned to the tower and had found Steve and Bucky back in their apartment. Bucky started off their meeting by immediately apologising for the events in DC, even though he doesn’t have to. Sam’s response to the apology was, “and just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?” A moment of intense silence hung heavily in the air, before Sam cracked a smile and pulled up a chair. Sam understands thoroughly what Bucky has been through, mainly because of everything Steve has told him, so there was never a doubt in Steve’s mind that Sam’s first meeting with Bucky was going to be met with friendliness. Caution, yes, but not hostility. 

At some stage Tony had returned, Pepper elegantly dressed by his side. Pepper and Bucky exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, before Pepper was called away to deal with some Stark Industries business. The minute the clock struck twelve Tony dragged Bucky to the lab already listing ideas that he had for a modified arm, crudely sketched on the back of a cocktail napkin that he produced from his pocket. 

This ended up being good timing - at their departure Sam pulled out a file and slapped it onto their coffee table. He had brought less than good news with him; mutterings of a scientist who managed to break the encryption on some restricted SHIELD data after the fall in DC. 

“Any idea who he is, what he got or what he plans to do with it?” Steve had asked, brows pressed. 

“I dunno, I only caught word of this because he’s trying to sell some of it to the highest bidder, and people talk. But so far there no takers.” Replied Sam, returning the concerned look, “I’ve got some friends keeping an ear to the ground, but after these files became public, it wasn’t going to be long before people started decodin’ them, Cap.” 

Steve closed the file, a little exasperated, “You’re right. This was always going to be a consequence of taking down SHIELD. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He rubs the bridge of his nose, “Thanks Sam.” 

It’s never really nothing though, is it? Steve spent the rest of the afternoon on his computer, trying to find anything to help him figure out what kind of information was out there, but he came up with nothing but frustration. His computer skills were… not good despite all the lessons he’s taken with JARVIS. He needs more than just a couple hours with a computer to sift through all the garbage that the internet provides when you search “Captain America”, “The Avengers”, “SHIELD” or “SHIELD leaked data”. Some other choice phrases had sent him into the wrong part of the internet that he doesn’t want to look at again. 

Bucky’s soft voice and hand on Steve’s shoulder rocks him out of his half asleep, half awake trance. 

Steve cracked open heavy eyes and glances at Bucky. Last that Steve checked before he rested his eyes, Bucky *was* intently watching the news, one leg draped over the armchair and another on the coffee table, jotting notes down in a book. Although now, Bucky’s face is at his eye level a gentle hand on his shoulder and a soft, warm smile. 

Steve forces his eyes open and shifts onto his side to face Bucky, “Hey Buck, what time is it?” 

Bucky’s smile slowly creeps up, eyes gentle, “You don’t wanna know, Grandpa.” 

Steve lifts his head glancing at the clock on the wall illuminating the time. 9:00pm. He drops his head back onto the couch - he won’t hear the end of this if Tony gets wind of it, “Please don’t tell anyone I’m a Grandpa.” 

A small teasing smirk plays on Bucky’s lips. “I can’t make any promises.” 

He’s exhausted, beyond belief and this couch feels like the comfiest object he’s ever laid on. 

Without thinking, Steve sticks his hand out and grabs the hand Bucky has resting on the couch. “Do you mind if I go to bed?” 

Bucky looks at their hands for a moment before running a thumb softly over Steve’s knuckles, “Yeah, of course, Steve. Is it alright if I stay up?” 

Steve let’s go of Bucky’s hand and moves off the couch, “‘Course. You know there’s a TV in your bedroom, too?” 

Bucky flops onto the couch that Steve just left, grabbing his notebook from the coffee table, “One step at a time, pal.” 

Steve chuckles to himself, and leans on the back of the couch, “Night, Buck.”

He starts heading down towards the hall leading to his bedroom, before turning around, “Don’t stay up too late, okay?” 

Bucky smiles back at him from the couch, “Night, Steve. Sleep well.” 

Steve smiles and heads straight to his bedroom, closing the door behind him and collapsing onto his bed. He should brush his teeth or wash his face but he can’t bring himself to move off another comfy surface. He lays there for a few moments eyes closed, waiting for sleep to embrace him. 

Only it doesn’t come. 

It’s 01:00 when Steve throws in the towel and sits up in bed. He drifted in and out of sleep for hours, never falling all the way there, something pulling him into wakefulness the moment he starts to drift off. ‘Too damn tired to sleep…’ he thinks, rubbing a hand over his face.

A book. Maybe a book would help him relax a little more, or at the very least it exhaust his brain enough to sleep. Or… where did he leave that file Sam dropped off? ‘No, Rogers. You read that five times over. Reading it again won’t achieve anything other than keeping you awake.’

He throws the covers off and pads down the hall, the sound of the tv growing as he walked. 

Turning the corner, he half expects Bucky to be still hunched over his notepad, writing like he was earlier. Except he’s met with a fast asleep Bucky on the couch, curled on his side. 

Steve moves to the front of the couch and spies the blankets across the room. Or… how much could he possibly weigh? 

Carefully, so as not to disturb him, Steve tucks his hands under Bucky’s body and lifts him up off the couch and cradles him in his arms, trying not to wake him. Bucky grunts something but doesn’t wake as Steve starts walking to Bucky’s bedroom. 

Slowly, Steve places Bucky down on his bed and grabs the covers to tuck him in. There’s a small noise from Bucky as he does, “ ‘member when I used to be the one carrying you.” 

Steve smiles, “Yeah.” He brushes his hair out of his face softly. “Go to sleep, Buck.” 

Steve takes one last look at Bucky before heading out the room and back to bed.

He flops onto his bed again, arms behind his head. When Bucky came back, honestly Steve never expected anything to be the same as it was. Not after everything that happened - how could it be? But, somehow, there are parts of it all that feel like old times. Granted, there’s some role reversal, but it’s the same. There’s something… (in him? In Bucky?) that feels different. Not bad, just different. But he can’t place it, can’t name it - maybe he’s too tired, but he can’t put his finger on it. 

Bucky isn’t the same. Not even a little bit… Anyone with even the smallest idea who he used to be can see that. Hydra took apart his mind and messed around with it until it was seemingly irreparable. 

It would be only natural to assume that nothing could possibly be the same again.

And yet, here they are. Living together again. Bucky fitting into the Avenger’s dynamic watching movies and stuffing himself with food as Steve falls asleep on the couch. The only thing that’s really changed between them is Steve putting Bucky to bed instead of the other way around. It’s... nice. Maybe something good can come from this. 

\----

Two Weeks Later 

\----

“So if you don’t mind me asking, big guy… why are you still here? Not that we don’t enjoy your company.” Tony is hanging off the side of the boxing ring, arms draped over the top rope and sipping on a green juice concoction. 

Thor throws two more jabs which Steve blocks, leaving Thor’s left side open for a millisecond too long. Steve throws a kick into Thor’s side and hits what may as well be a brick wall - thank god Steve’s wearing a shin guard. The hit causes Thor to stumble back a couple spaces though but his huge smile doesn’t indicate that any sort of damage incurred to the God. 

Thor smirks as Steve straightens up from his boxing stance, “Well placed, Steven.” He rips the velcro off of one glove and pulls it off, “and answering your question, Stark, I’ve still got to locate Loki’s scepter. It’s somewhere on this planet and it’s too powerful to leave in the wrong hands. 

Tony takes a long pull on his juice, “Me ‘n Bruce’ll get onto it, see if we can’t try and pick up some gamma readings to find where it is.” 

Steve cocks an eyebrow unwrapping the boxing straps from his hands, “That the only reason?”

Thor’s smirk softens to a genuine smile, “Seeing Jane Foster is another reason for my extended stay, Steven.” 

Steve shrugs, “It’s not a bad thing to want to spend some extra time with her, Thor. You don’t have to stay here just for us. You could be spending time with her if you wanted.” 

Thor considers this for a moment, “I suppose while Stark and Banner search for a way to find Loki’s sceptre, I could visit Jane for an extended time.” 

Tony leans forward and slaps him on the shoulder, “All in the name of love, Point Break. We love seeing you, but while you’re in this galaxy, make some extra time for your girl.” 

Steve smiles softly, “We’ll call you if we need anything.” 

Thor smiles, confident in both Steve and Tony’s words, “Verily.” He climbs through the ropes of the ring, looking at Tony, “the moment you find the sceptre…?” 

“We’ll beam you up.”

Thor’s brow furrows before he turns and walks towards the doors. 

Steve laughs, “Do you drop pop culture references just to confuse him?” 

Tony points a finger, “You watched Star Trek.” 

Steve just shrugs, “Gotta work through the list sometime.” 

“I don’t know if I’m proud you understood that reference.” He hops down from the side of the ring, “Alright, I’m gonna go and start working on those Gamma readings with Bruce. See if we can’t find this needle in the haystack. See you a bit later, don’t work too hard.” 

Steve tosses his boxing gloves down on his bag and watches as Tony follows out the same doors that Thor’s had just left through. 

He sighs to himself. Both of his original boxing partners left so early on in his morning workout, leaving him with adrenaline pumping through his veins, begging to be used. 

Three loud and sudden smacks cause Steve to twist his head to see where it came from. He should’ve known from the power alone that it was Bucky over by the boxing bags.

He watches Bucky working on the bag. It’s reinforced; a custom made, heavy weight bag specifically for Steve. The custom price started to look better than the cost for continuously buying new, weaker bags. Even still, Bucky is giving it a solid beating. 

Steve is… intrigued. That’s what the word is. Watching Bucky box with the bag, muscles working hard, the sweat dripping off his shoulder blades and down his back. What would it be like to fight him now?

They’ve sparred before - many times. Back when they were young till just before they were in the war. The last they fought was DC but that doesn’t count… he wasn’t putting up a much of a fight at the end. 

Bucky always won. But with his metal arm and Steve’s new strength, maybe they got a fair match on their hands. 

Natasha says something Steve can’t quite pick up. Bucky stops punching for a moment, shaking his head before Natasha moves away, gently touching his metal shoulder and walking off to the elevator, Clint in tow. Sam is on the other side of the room, stacking some weights on a machine. 

“Buck!” Bucky turns around in time to see Steve jump the top rope of ring and make his way over to the punching bag. “Your form is off.”

Bucky’s hair is tied neatly back into a bun, wisps of hair stuck to his forehead and neck. He wipes a towel along his forehead with a scoff, eyebrows shooting for his hairline “Have you forgotten who taught you how to box? An’ on the streets on Brooklyn no less. I don't need you educating me on boxin’, Steve.” 

Steve smirks and positions himself near the bag, “Apparently you do,” He drops into a fighting stance, shoulders raised high and head ducked, “Your shoulders are too lax. You need to keep your stance tight and closer to the body.” Steve throws two punches, rocking the bag, the impact reverberating throughout the gym. “Gotta protect yourself, punk.” 

Bucky throws the towel landing over by his drink bottle, “I taught you that years ago, you just lacked the muscle on your bones to actually protect anything so you kept yourself wide open anyway, jerk.” He positions himself, natural and unforced and admittedly, Steve notes, perfect. He throws two punches to the bag, hard and fast, the sound equaling Steve’s punches before. 

Bucky glances at Steve, “You still haven't mastered how to punch fast though. Anyone could still punch ya in the guts twice before you threw your first one.” Two more punches to the bag, faster than Steve can count. Bucky straightens up, “All that muscle ain't gonna do you any good if you’re slow as slug.” He takes a long drink from his bottle, his adam's apple bobbing up and down with each gulp. Steve’s eyes follow a bead of water trailing down Bucky’s neck. Bucky puts the bottle down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Good to know I’d still beat you in a fight.” 

Got him. 

Steve squares up, determined, “Prove it.” 

Bucky pauses, bottle in hand and towel draped around his neck. He laughs when he realises, “You were baiting me. You haven’t changed a damned bit, Rogers.” 

Steve shrugs, “Unless you’re not game.” 

Bucky steps towards Steve, the space between them minimal now, “I have a perfect record.” He moves past Steve and starts heading towards the ring, “Why would I give up the chance to defend it?” He starts swinging his arms, warming them up. 

Steve smirks to himself, watching Buck duck between the ropes to get into the ring, strangely proud of himself. Bucky doesn’t always take the bait - he always had a steadier head on his shoulders, used to having to balance out Steve’s hot head. Any time he can get Bucky to play ball, he feels a warm glow of satisfaction in his chest. 

Bucky leans on the ropes from inside the ring and calls back to him, “At least it’ll be on an even playing field this time. Can’t blame your losses on bein’ a scrawny 90 pounds now.” 

Steve’s tongue pushes into his cheek as he walks up to the ring, stepping onto the side, face to face with Bucky, hands either side of his, “And asthmatic.” Bucky’s tongue flicks across his lips, lightly biting down, his foot pushing the lower rope down and his arm pulling the top rope up. 

Steve ducks through the ropes, “Such a gentleman,” he teases, a smirk still on his lips. 

Bucky throws a wink in response and as Steve straightens up, he kicks forward into Steve’s core. 

The Barnes. His first lesson when he started teaching Steve on the streets of Brooklyn, “A fight, doesn’t have an official start, Steve, just an endin’.” 

Steve sees his kick coming a mile off, batting it to the side and grabbing onto his leg. “Seriously, Barnes? If you’re gonna fight dirty at least do it right.” He pulls Bucky’s leg forward forcing him to move with it. Bucky laughs, his leg caught in Steve’s grip, “So you have learnt something! You surprise me everyday, punk. Sadly, not enough.”

Bucky grips the side of the ring and lifts himself up, throwing his free leg over Steve’s shoulder and around his neck. Bucky moves his centre of gravity towards the back of Steve body, forcing him to let go of Bucky’s leg and flip forwards onto the floor of the ring with a loud smack reverberating through the gym. 

Steve lays there for a few moments breathing heavily with a smile on his face. “Fucking Natasha.” 

Bucky laughs, holding his hand out to pull Steve up, “Black Widow, baby.” 

As Steve takes his hand, Sam’s laugh rings out, “Woah, dude just kicked your ass using Nat’s move.” 

Steve smiles, focusing back on Bucky, “It was a good choice, I’ll give him that.” 

Bucky shrugs, smugly and Sam nods his head in agreement, “Well time to hit the showers, forgot I’ve gotta be somewhere but I’ll see you both later on.” He walks down the side of the ring, “Don’t forget to wear protection, you two.” 

Steve’s head snaps towards Sam at the double entendre and he feels his face get considerably warmer. 

Steve quickly turns around and grabs his drink bottle praying that by the time he turns back around Bucky will just chalk it up his blush to physical exertion. 

He’s still drinking when Bucky’s voice breaks the silence behind him, “Now before we were rudely interrupted, I believe I was kicking your ass.” 

Steve crouches down to place the bottle on the ground. 

“Nope, don’t even try it, Rogers.” 

Steve smiles to himself and then straightens up, turning around. He puts on his doe eyes and acts innocent, “Try what?” 

“Stay low and knock me off my feet” Bucky rolls his eyes, “Rookie.” 

Bucky settles himself into his fighting stance, Steve following suit. 

They slowly circle each other, studying each other - waiting for the other to break eye contact, to throw the first punch. Steve had spent his formative years watching Bucky’s fighting style, learning whatever he could. He knows Bucky had done the same, not that there was much for him to see other than Steve getting beaten day in, day out. It’s different now though, they both know how to fight. 

Anyone could win. 

Bucky breaks first, throwing a sharp jab with his right fist. Steve sidesteps, the force of Bucky’s metal fist scraping past Steve’s ear. Steve doesn’t have time to reset his stance before Bucky has thrown a right hook, somehow quicker than the punch before it.

It catches Steve off guard, dropping to the ground to dodge it. Steve pushes up on both hands and uses his legs to kick firmly up into Bucky’s chest. It sends Bucky back a couple paces, slightly winded but a smirk playing on his lips. “Nice one, punk.” 

Steve jumps up, “Wouldn’t have done it if your punches weren’t so damn fast, jerk.” 

Bucky stalks around edge of the ring slowly, using the time to catch his breath, not like Steve wouldn’t let him anyway - it was a decent kick. 

Bucky lifts up his shirt over his head, using it as a towel before placing it over the ropes of the ring. A red mark already developing dead centre of his chest. Admittedly, that’s not what Steve can focus on right now. With each breath that Bucky takes, his abs contract and pull, glistening from the light sweat he’s built up so far. Steve has to mentally slap himself in the face to concentrate again. 

Bucky places his right hand against his cheek, the left fist forward, ready to fight.

Steve doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give Bucky another chance to get the speed and power behind his punches again. He lunges forward and throws a right jab, only to have Bucky side step it all together, stepping forward, throwing a roundhouse kick directly into Steve’s side. He takes the full force of the kick but holds his ground, Steve throws a faux left jab, causing Bucky to dodge to his left and into his trap. Steve throws a right hook, landing square on the side of Bucky’s cheekbone. Bucky’s body moves with the force of the punch, but doesn’t topple him over, holding his hand to his cheek. 

“Are you alright?” Steve knows his strength and how to pull his punches but it doesn’t mean he isn’t concerned still when one of them lands. Bucky spits out blood onto the mat, then turns to face Steve. A split lip and cheekbone. His mouth smirks clumsily to accommodate for the split lip. Not even a bloodied face could change the fact that Bucky was a painfully handsome man. Something about the look on his face made steve’s heart thump in his chest. 

“That’ll be the only punch you get in, I’m telling you that right now.” Bucky turns around grabs his shirt again, wiping his mouth and cheek down. He pauses for a moment and keeps the shirt in his hand looking at it. 

“Do you want to keep going?” It’s not a taunt or a way to egg him on. It’s concern. 

Bucky keeps his eyes on the shirt, “Of course I want to keep going. I’m just trying to remember how dirty we’re allowed to fight.” 

Steve narrows his eyes, “What?” 

Before Steve can blink, Bucky has thrown the shirt at his eyes, blinding him for a moment. He knew it was coming, but he couldn’t do anything to stop Bucky grabbing him around the middle, tackling him to the ground. 

He struggles under Bucky’s weight, pinning him in place, still blinded by the shirt across his eyes. Steve tries grabbing onto Bucky to push him off, but he feels Bucky’s hands grab his wrists and slam them above his head, pinned under Bucky’s metal hand.A split second later the shirt is pulled away. 

Steve takes a small gulp. 

Bucky is panting slightly, a flush to his cheeks and his lopsided grin. 

A black shirt dangles into vision. “So, I believe, that’s another win for me.” 

Steve tries to come to grips with the fact he’s about to lose AGAIN. He’s pinned tightly - he tries to wiggle free, scissoring his legs. 

“Nope,” the P popping loudly, “you’re not going anywhere.” Bucky grins, cockily, and secures his grip; thighs tightening around Steve’s, pushing his hands more firmly behind his head. “Admit it,” Bucky leans over Steve, his face inches away, “I win.” 

Steve has always been too stubborn for his own good - he struggles, pressing back against Bucky. Bucky’s grin gets wider as he tries to break free, squeezing him tighter, leaning in closer. “You can’t win pal - just admit it. I got you.” Steve goes for one last ditch effort, snapping his hips up to try to throw Bucky but it’s no good, Bucky moving with him, before pushing his weight back down.

Steve is suddenly conscious of all the points they’re touching; of Bucky’s thighs gripping against him, the weight of Bucky’s hips pressing down his own. Bucky is still grinning above him, a few wisps of hair escaping from his loose bun to fall around his face. They lock eyes; breathing heavily. Steve feels the blood pumping through his body; feels the heat in his wrists where Bucky holds him, rushing up the contact points in his legs. They hold each other’s gaze, breathing together, neither of them breaking eye contact. The moment stretches, longer than it should, longer than he should let it, but Steve can’t make himself pull away. Bucky hasn’t moved, still pressing into him, holding his wrists tightly. The smile has faded, replaced with a piercing gaze, his lips gently parted.

“Buck -”

He hears voices in the hall; Sam’s back, and he’s with someone, approaching the gym. Bucky releases him, pushing off just before the door slides open, revealing Sam and Sharon. 

“What’s up sleepy head - you nappin?” Sam cocks an eyebrow, grin spreading on his face.

Steve sits up quickly, “Oh, Sharon… Hi.” If Sam or Sharon saw even a second of what was just happening he would… well god knows. He feels heat rising on his face and chest at the thought. 

He glances quickly Bucky, paused half way through putting his shirt on. His eyes are on Steve before moving to Sharon, focusing on her for a moment. He shifts his gaze away as he pulls his shirt on the rest of the way, turning away from Steve. 

You’ve really gone and done it now, Rogers. 

“I’m told that you may have forgotten about a particularly important meeting, Cap.” Sam tilts his head towards Sharon. “Thought I would show her up.” 

Steve throws himself to his feet. How could he forget he was supposed to meet Sharon for coffee? He’s doing well today. “I’m…” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry, Sharon.” 

Sharon waves her hand, “Its fine. For once, we’ve got time.” 

Sam laughs, “As much as I like seein’ Cap squirm, I’m runnin’ real late now.” He waves as he heads out the doors. “Sharon, always good seeing you.” The doors swing shut behind him. 

Sharon takes a couple of steps towards the ring, “Who won?” 

Steve glances over to Bucky, half expecting a cocked smile flaunting his win, but is met with stony silence, the only response the Velcro ripping off his hand wraps. 

“Uh, Buck did, as usual.” 

Sharon smiles in Bucky’s direction, “As usual? Sounds like there’s a few stories there.” 

Steve glances to Bucky, wondering how he’ll respond to her. Other than his doctors, Sharon was probably the first person he’d met that wasn’t an Avenger or an Avenger’s significant other. Bucky flicks his eyes up to Steve for a moment and then turns to Sharon, “Well, the serum can give you all the muscle in the world but you’ll still lose if you don’t know how to fight.” He gives Sharon a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Something about Sharon has put Bucky on edge. 

If Sharon notices it, she’s too polite to make a point of it. “Sounds about right.” She pauses for a moment, the silence stretching out awkwardly. “It seems that Steve is as good at introducing people as he is at fighting. I’m Sharon.” 

Steve grips the bridge of his nose, choking back a sigh. He should’ve stayed in bed today. “Sharon, Bucky. Buck, Sharon. Sharon used to work for SHIELD where she spied on me for Nick Fury.” 

Bucky takes a step forward and takes Sharon’s hand as she says, “‘Used to’ is the key phrase here. Apparently ‘doing my job’ is a phrase he doesn’t quite get.” She lets go of Bucky’s hand, adding, “It’s great to finally meet you… Steve’s barely shut up about you since DC.”

Steve can see Bucky’s shoulders tense as he glances back at him. It’s subtle - Steve doubts anyone but him would notice. Admittedly, and shamefully, Steve hasn't mentioned a damn thing about Sharon to Bucky yet. It just never came up. Bucky doesn’t let it slip though, “It’s great to meet you too, Sharon.” He plasters on a smile Steve has seen a thousand times before. Anyone who doesn’t know him would call it charming but Steve can see, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes, they don’t crinkle at the corners like his natural smile does. It’s forced. 

Bucky turns to Steve, the same smile stuck on his face, “Now, you’re already late, I can clean up in here. You guys head out.” He starts busying himself with some towels, “I’ll catch you later.” 

Steve’s brow furrows a little, “Are you sure, Buck?” 

The fake smile hasn’t moved an inch, “You think I can’t handle a couple of towels?” 

Steve pauses for a moment. He can’t push this further right now, not with Sharon here. Stepping through the ropes of the ring and grabbing his sweatshirt he turns back to Bucky, “See you later, jerk.” 

Bucky looks up from the towels at Steve and smirks - a genuine expression, “Yeah yeah, punk.” 

Sharon takes the hint and starts heading towards the doors, Steve following behind. Sharon’s started talking about… well god knows what. It turns into white noise as they push past the doors, Steve glances back at Bucky; still in the ring, his back to them both as he leans on the ropes, his head dropped. 

—-

There are a few glances his way. He’s wearing his cap and sunglasses so the only thing actually bringing attention to himself is his muttering and constant shuffling in his chair. He must look like a crazy person... the stares are probably justified. 

Steve moves in his seat again and makes an effort to try and distract himself - or at least stop his fidgeting. He looks over to Sharon taking a call as she waits for their coffees.

She had called last week to organise a meeting. Last week. That’s another Carter he’s made wait. 

Sharon had told him shortly after the collapse of SHIELD that she was Peggy’s niece. Any romantic attraction between them disintegrated afterwards. It was too weird and that’s okay. Realistically they probably wouldn’t have lasted long anyway. 

Bucky coming back changed everything - he knows what it did to him. He’s not completely blind to his own feelings. Living in New York for a while post-ice, it’s hard to miss that things are different now. The Pride parade that happens yearly. One curious mind and a Google search later, Steve came out a whole lot wiser about sexual orientations and labels. He’s what people call “bisexual” - a whole new idea that didn’t really exist in the ‘40s.. Reminiscing on memories of Bucky and Steve’s erratic behaviour when it came to Bucky, how hard it hit when he lost him, it didn’t take long to put two and two together. 

Realising how he felt about Bucky made the whole thing worse. He lost Bucky only a couple of days before he drove the plane into the ice and six months (and 70 years later) after he found out his true feelings for him. He was still in mourning and this realisation was like a shard of glass stabbing into his heart. Finally figuring out what his feelings meant, learning that it was ok to feel like this, and to have everything ripped away left him completely raw. Mix all this with PTSD and what do you get? A mentally stable super soldier.

Yeah, right.

That day, on the bridge, seeing Bucky’s face after all the time… for the first time since finding Bucky in Azzano he felt whole. He thought he had been given a second chance. To do it right. 

But if there’s anything these past two weeks have taught him is, Bucky Barnes is not in the mind set for any romance - regardless where it’s coming from. Now is not the time for confronting feelings about your best friend of 70 years, completely putting aside the fact that the man is straighter than a wooden plank, at least if his dating history has anything to say about it. 

That moment in the gym though… he could’ve sworn there was something in Bucky's eyes, something he’d never seen before. It almost gives him hope. 

He groans out loud. A mother two tables over side eyes him and then fusses her child to leave. Yup, that’s the expected reaction to the crazy groaning man in New York. 

If Steve wasn’t in public, he would probably break the table in front of him with his face.

Why is he such a goddamn idiot? Getting himself in that situation… how could he forget he was supposed to met Sharon?

Oh, that’s right, cause he’s the world’s biggest dumbass. 

“Are you alright, Steve?” Sharon’s voice breaks through Steve’s internal monologue, as she places the coffee down and slides into the seat across from him. 

“I’m fine, Sharon. Just.. sorry for forgetting about our plans.” 

Sharon smiles, it’s kind and sweet, understanding Steve’s pathological need to apologise, “For the tenth time, it’s fine, Steve.” She takes a sip from the coffee and smiles, “So do you want to talk about what I just walked in on, or do I have to pry it out of you?” 

Steve flushes, hard. “What do you mean?” 

“You’re still a horrible liar, Steve.” 

He focuses intently on his coffee cup, “Gee, thanks.” 

There’s silence, Sharon happy to wait him out. Steve knows what she’s doing. It still works though… he needs to get it off his chest.

“It’s complicated, Sharon... Bucky is complicated and it’s all… complicated. Ugh.” he grips the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

Sharon leans forward, “This is about Bucky?!” 

Steve exasperatedly throws his hands in the air, “I thought you were talking about the gym?!” 

Sharon grabs his arms and pushes them down, “I was talking about you acting like a crazy person in public!” She laughs; beautiful and soft, and Steve buries his face in his hands. 

Resigned, face still in his hands, Steve mumbles, “Hmmpan fur bualr.” 

Sharon kicks his chair leg, “Move your hands, dork.” 

Steve abides and then sits forward in his chair, voice dropping to a whisper, “I have feelings for Bucky.” 

Sharon mimics him, throwing a couple looks either side of her, “I know.” She smirks. 

Steve takes a deep breath and slouches back into his chair, “How?” 

She smiles, “I was there in Washington, Steve. I’d be an idiot - and a sad excuse for an agent - if I couldn’t figure that much out.” 

Steve shakes his head, “I don’t know what to do.” 

Sharon playfully smacks the table in front of her, “You’re Steven Goddamn Rogers - you tell him!” 

Steve shakes his head harder, “Nope. No way. Not happening.” 

“Why on earth not?” 

Steve looks to the side and sees a couple staring at him and whispering. He leans forward again lowering his voice only for Sharon to hear, “Bucky is… finally in a good place. He’s got a routine, stable environment and he’s been… happy.” Steve smiles at the thought. “But he’s just been brainwashed and tortured for 70 years, Sharon.” Sharon looks down at her coffee cup. Steve continues, “It’s not right to push myself onto him... I’m supposed to be someone who should be a safe space for him to recover and lean on - I don’t want to make this an awkward situation or worse....” Steve runs his finger over the brim of his coffee cup, “plus… Bucky and I grew up in a different time. I may have accepted myself…” Steve trails off, fear clutching at his throat.

Sharon fills in the gap, “You’re worried Bucky won’t be as open to the idea of same sex relationships?” 

Steve shrugs, “He was okay with it back when we lived together. There were couples in the neighbourhood we grew up in. But we never talked about me being the queer one. I can imagine it somehow different if it’s someone close to you. You think a person is someone and then they turn out to be someone else… I’m too scared to tell him. I doubt he even knows the word bisexual yet. It wasn’t even a concept in the 40s.” 

Another pause, “I’m just worried that if I tell him, he’s not going to look at me the same again.” 

Steve sits there feeling Sharon’s eyes inspecting him before she talks, “He’s your best friend, Steve. He’s not going to disown you because of who you love.” 

Steve nods solemnly, but Sharon’s words don’t quite hit. 

She places a hand on his, “I’m sorry I can’t help more than telling you a thousand times to just trust your gut, Steve. It’s gotten you through a lot of hard times and you’ve come out the other end just fine.” 

Steve nods, “Thanks Sharon.” 

She smiles softly, “Now, how about I give you something that may actually cheer you up?” 

Steve quizzically raises a brow. Sharon digs into her bag, producing a file, “Remember that doctor you asked me to dig up some information on?” Steve nods taking the file from her, opening it. Sharon takes a sip of her coffee, “It’s not a lead, but, it’s something.” 

Steve flips through the file, eyes narrowing. It’s definitely something.

“Thanks again, Sharon,” he closes the file, placing it under his arm and gets up out of his chair, throwing her a small smile, “that does cheer me up a little.” 

“And Steve?” She cups her coffee in her hands, absorbing the warmth. 

He raises an eyebrow, “Yes?” 

She smiles that Carter smile; all knowing and genuine, “Just don’t leave it too long okay? It’s been 70 years... don’t you think you’ve waited long enough?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! Feel free to leave Kudos or a comment! they really help me push through when im writing chapters - even though ones weeks after it's been posted, i see you and youre valid <3
> 
> The next chapter is already in the works and i cant wait to share it with you!  
> Here's a little spoiler for you  
> Cat  
> thats its - thats the spoiler you have to wait for what it means!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of this fic!
> 
> Let me know what you think, i would love to know :D


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